The Return of the Original Demon King
by chris'cut
Summary: Seventy years ago, one of the two souls sealed in the forbidden boxes managed to escape. Wolfram protected an infant seventy years ago. Now he suspects that he had saved the incarnated Soushu, the Leader of the Originators. With seduction, romance, and signs that portend another war with the Originators, the truth has to unfold. Question is, will it? Slight AU. Shinou ? xWolfram.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Kyou Kara Maoh!_ or any of its characters. I do not make money from these writings.

**Warnings**: This story will contain romance between men.

**Beta-reader**: none

**Genre: **Mystery, Fantasy, Romance

**Summary: **Seventy years ago, one of the two souls sealed in the forbidden boxes managed to escape. Wolfram protected an infant seventy years ago. Now he suspects that he had saved the incarnated Soushu, the Leader of the Originators. With seduction, romance, and signs that portend another war with the Originators, the truth has to unfold. Question is, will it? Slight AU. Shinou (?) x Wolfram.

**Author's Note: **In terms of timeline, "The Return of the Original Demon King"takes place after season 3 of the anime, though the events in that season will hardly be mentioned. Also, because of this version of Shinou, you may consider this fanfiction AU.

This short story (hopefully less than 30,000 words) will be my last KKM fanfiction until I finish my other WIPs. Speaking of WIPs, I've been working on two of them, but my writing isn't turning out the way it should. This story, however, has revived my enthusiasm in writing. And I can only hope you find it enjoyable.

I love _almost_ everybody with Wolfram. Here's my contribution to those interested in Shinou x Wolfram pairing. Have a pleasant reading.

_Lastly, if you hate spoilers, please skip the description of the main characters._

**Main Characters:**

Wolfram von Bielefeld – 85 years old in demon age; blond hair; emerald-green eyes; 5-foot-8 in height.

Aldrich (reincarnated Shinou) – 70 years old in demon age; blond hair; sapphire-blue eyes; 6-foot-2 in height.

**The Return of the Original Demon King **

(Chapter 1)

Like many of those caught up in a dream, Wolfram could not recall how he ended along a dimly lit underground passageway. He sensed an urgency to move along, though no reason came to mind. In a sluggish state, he neither questioned nor cared to learn if he was walking or running or merely viewing images for it sometimes seemed as if it was the entire tunnel coursing around him, moving underneath his feet, which he could not feel like any other part of his body. With the exception of his own ragged breathing, he hardly perceived any sound; even the flames of the torches, burning fitfully along the crude walls, remained silent.

Suddenly, hooves trampled on the ground above him. The roar of successive heavy treading reverberated within the walls of the tunnel. It was a familiar experience; a familiarity that increased with every second.

Wolfram allowed himself to be ushered by the invisible force that guided him to the left, through another passageway, and then to the left again until he caught a glimpse of natural light in shades of blue from the opening at a distance. He was certain it was almost dawn, though the reason for his awareness eluded him. Before he could reach the opening, piercing cries of help resounded throughout the tunnel, while the bluish light ahead turned a bright orange. The image of a man and a woman, huddling in a corner of a log cabin as they burned alive, flashed in his mind. Along with the bloodcurdling screams, he heard unrestrained wailing, and instantly visualized a baby wrapped in sheepskin, hidden in a hatch underneath his parents' disintegrating bodies.

It was then that Wolfram remembered.

He was too late.

Again.

Suddenly, his reality returned to when he was fifteen years old. This time, though, unlike when he was fifteen, he knew what awaited him at the end of the tunnel: Once he emerged outside, he expected the forest to be ablaze. But the wildfire was not from natural cause, for he would then witness five horsemen pour gas around the only cabin in the clearing of the woods. Since he was only a child, he would be unable to stop them. Before long, the horsemen would depart in certainty that the flames would engulf the lives of the humble abode's inhabitants. Because he possessed the element of fire within him, he was impervious to its destructiveness. He would rush toward the burning cabin undaunted. Unfortunately, he would be too late to save the couple because, by the time he made it inside, the flames would have already devoured their bodies and the wooden door of the hatch under their feet. It was beneath this door he would find the baby. He would remove the infant from the hatch then carry him outside.

Now, as Wolfram glided further along the intricacies of the underground passage, he no longer perceived the infant's cry. Was he alive still? Or was he incinerated as well? If he didn't reach the cabin in time, he would not be able to protect the infant. He attempted to run but could not feel his limbs. The unseen force guiding him seemed to be in no haste, and the urgency he felt eventually abated as the tunnel grew silent once more.

By the time Wolfram emerged from the tunnel, there was neither conflagration nor horsemen. The cabin had been diminished to a heap of blackened logs and charred furniture. And it was no longer dawn. At a distance, the sun peeked between leafless branches of burnt trees. He did not question the abrupt change since he was no more than a soul drifting in his sleep, remaining passive and receptive to what was about to transpire.

Crouching at a corner of the clearing were two men in loose-fitting work garments and shovels in their hands. Behind them was a horse-drawn wagon. Both men were squatting with their backs toward him. Although he couldn't remember walking, he managed to draw closer to the workers somehow.

"We should surrender them to the town hall," the younger of the two men said.

"The townsfolk will have them killed," the older man said, "just as they murdered their parents."

"Don't be deceived by these innocent faces. How could they have survived the fire if they aren't the children of eternal darkness?"

Wolfram peered between the worker's shoulders. On the ground, wrapped in the same sheepskin he last saw him in, was the infant he had protected. The baby seemed to have survived the fire without injuries and was sleeping with a thumb between pursed lips. Beside the infant was a boy with blond hair who appeared asleep as well. Soot covered the exposed flesh of the boy whose garments had been destroyed by the fire.

Wolfram was somewhat aware the boy was him. However, it didn't occur to him to ponder on how he was able to see himself.

He then hovered around until he was facing the men.

"I was not aware they had two children," one of the men remarked.

"My wife will be happy to take care of them," the older man said, touching the infant's round face.

The other man rubbed the tender scalp of the baby. "He will have silken golden locks similar to his sibling. And look at those defined features. There's no doubt they have demon blood. No one will believe they're your children. Moreover, if they find out this infant is alive… this infant who's been prophesied to be the incarnation—"

"Would the god of eternal darkness choose hapless parents for his second life?" the older man argued, gently scooping the sleeping infant into his arms. "What our leader did was a mistake. He chose to listen to a thousand-year-old woman who most likely is the advocate of Soushu himself. He murdered these innocent children's parents for nothing."

Who was Soushu again? Wolfram wondered, currently residing in his fifteen-year-old mind rather than the present.

"Why don't we hand them over to the Maoh? Let the High Priestess decide whether or not he's the incarnated Soushu…"

Wolfram remained puzzled. Had he protected the incarnated Soushu, whoever or whatever that was?

"…because if he isn't, then they should search for him."

The other man scowled at his companion. "If our leader is forced to retract the proclamation he made today, the townsfolk will grow restless and paranoid once more. Instead of seeking the real one all over again, it's better to leave them convinced that the child of darkness met his demise in a forest fire."

While the men argued, Wolfram felt giddy. He sensed something jab his upper chest, followed by a jolt on his thigh. The men, infant, boy, and clearing seemed to go around him, and then disappeared entirely, replaced with darkness.

OooooooooO

"Uggh!"

Wolfram woke up with a groan as his ribcage was struck. His eyelids flung open then fluttered as he blinked at the green canopy above. When he finally regained his bearing, he realized he was in the Maoh's chamber. From the corner of his eye, he saw wild brown curls pressed to his armpit and a slender olive-skinned arm across his chest. Apparently, Greta, who was the Maoh's thirteen-year-old adopted daughter, had shifted in her sleep and nestled against him, explaining the jab that initially roused him. Lowering his gaze further, he found the child's knee against the side of his thigh, which most likely was the source of jolt he perceived earlier.

Gently, carefully so as not to rouse her, he held Greta's shoulder and pushed until her back was against the sateen sheet. He then sat up, glancing at the figure on the other side of Greta. He found his accidental fiancé of almost three years, Yuuri Shibuya, who happened to be the twenty-seventh Maoh of Shin Makoku, sprawled on the king-sized bed, snoring peacefully with a smile that tugged the corners of his mouth.

"Someone's having a pleasant dream," Wolfram mumbled as he got out of bed.

He proceeded to the sitting area of the chamber, and poured himself a glass of water. Even though it was late autumn, his flimsy negligee clung to his sweaty body. He definitely could use some nippy morning breeze. Thus, while quenching his thirst, he headed for the balcony.

He eased himself onto one of the four white-painted iron chairs, and crossed a leg over the other. After settling his glass on the round cast-iron table, he swept his eyes across the horizon. The balcony of the Maoh's chamber in Covenant Castle, which was situated on top of a hill, afforded a hundred-and-eighty-degree view of the surrounding villages and town proper below. He had a penchant for watching the scenery change along with the color of the sky and weather. At that moment, the grey sky was changing hues. If he stayed outdoors for a few minutes more, he would be able to see another sunrise. If it was more impressive than usual, he would attempt to capture the image in a canvas.

Usually, he would relish the beauty of the vista before him without a thought clouding his mind. That morning, however, his dream lingered. He remembered it vividly unlike previous dreams. He wondered if the conversation of the men had indeed taken place: his fifteen-year-old self was unconscious after all, which then led him to also question how he could return to a time that was impossible for him to have a recollection of. More importantly, had Soushu, who was a formless being that induced malice and paranoia in the minds of people, truly been incarnated? Two years ago, Soushu had been eradicated by Yuuri. Soushu's four thousand-year-old prison chambers in the form of forbidden boxes were kept at the Tomb of the Great One. Those boxes were now as harmless as the dust they accumulated. Therefore, the odds of his dream being of any import were slim. On the other hand, there was much to risk if he dismissed what could be a warning.

With furrowed brows, Wolfram returned to that day seventy years ago. He soon realized it wasn't easy. He did remember waking up in a modest brick house—or was it a bakeshop?—in the village. Although he didn't remember the faces of the middle-aged couple who owned the place, he was certain they were kind, and for a haughty child like him to have a positive opinion on mere commoners, they must have been extremely attentive and patient to his whims.

Try as he might, it proved difficult to revive further details of that day except that his mother, Cecilie von Spitzveg, who was the Maoh then, came for him before dusk. The last thing he remembered was the commotion of having the ruler of the country visit a commoner's dwelling to fetch her youngest child, who had been presumed abducted after missing an entire night.

After releasing an audible exhale, Wolfram got to his feet. He decided that there was always tomorrow for sunrise; asking information from his mother, however, could not wait for she would depart for another voyage in the afternoon. For now, it was imperative to unravel the identity of the man he had saved.

OooooooooO

Disguised as a stable boy, Wolfram went to town alone in search of the man he had saved. According to his mother, "Al's Bread" was the name of the bakery of the couple who looked after him for a night seventy years ago. The address his mother provided was no longer a bakery, and the present tenant of the former bakeshop's property informed him the couple whose last names were Drich had passed away over a decade ago, and that their son, Aldrich, conducted various businesses elsewhere. Where exactly Aldrich resided, the barkeeper of the tavern next door would most probably know since he was a regular customer.

The barkeeper was a tall, slender young woman with generous curves and possessed arresting features which even her thick cosmetics could not take credit for. This beautiful barkeeper, though, was as cold as the autumn breeze. Either her curt and ambiguous replies to Wolfram's queries were to protect her frequent customer's privacy, or her aloofness was a reaction to his disguise. One of the early drinkers, a haggard man with brooding eyes, seemed to have perceived the warning and impatience in Wolfram's tone. This man produced a creased parchment—an old receipt—from his trouser's pocket. When the barkeeper disappeared behind the tassel curtains leading to the kitchen, he scribbled hastily on the parchment using the burnt end of a match in an ashtray. The gaunt man then begged Wolfram not to describe to Aldrich the person who had disclosed his residence. For this reason, Wolfram had a hunch this Aldrich was an intimidating fellow. Before he could ask, the female barkeeper returned and the man's concentration returned to his ale.

"Al's harowwestroad" was how Wolfram read the gaunt man's hasty writing. There was a West Harrow Road as well as an East Harrow Road. He swept through both roads and found "Al's Tailor," "Al's Wine," "Al's Footwear," "Al's Pawnshop," and a few more stores which flaunted Al's name on the same fine gilded calligraphy. He had entered almost a dozen establishments, questioned the storekeepers about Aldrich's location to no avail. Every amiable storekeeper had clammed up at the mention of Aldrich and offered no information. Their reaction reinforced his opinion that this Aldrich was a brute—a wealthy brute—and could be indeed the incarnated Soushu who manipulated minds. What other reason could there be for someone utterly prominent and feared to escape the attention of his eldest brother, Gwendal von Voltaire, who happened to be the general of the country? Everybody voiced their concerns, including the most trivial, during Mondays and Tuesdays in Covenant Castle to Gwendal, but the name of Aldrich or Al had never been mentioned.

If a human boy had not taken pity on Wolfram as he squatted by the foot of a lamppost in exhaustion and then suggested that "harowwestroad" may be the "narrowest road" misspelled, he would not have reached his destination. The boy was also helpful enough to suggest that he check out "Al's Meat." Without further ado, he searched for a butcher shop.

With a creased parchment grubby from handling, Wolfram wearily eyed the sign hanging below the eaves of a well maintained clay roof. "Al's Meat," the sign said, and it was the establishment on the narrowest road in town. There were no parts of carcasses dangling from hooks, no sausages, and no stench of raw meat. In fact, it was not a butcher shop he assumed it would be. It was a restaurant inside a single story brick building. The structure boasted of expansive glass windows framed in oak. A clean-shaven gentleman in a grey overcoat and an elderly man with neatly trimmed beard under a wine-colored top hat emerged from the double doors of the establishment, allowing a waft of steak to reach Wolfram's nostrils.

Wolfram lowered his gaze and regarded his disguise with regret. He had taken the stable boy's unwashed clothing from the laundry then worn it, deeming the smell of sweat made his disguise convincing; afterward, he took without permission Yuuri's dullest sandy wig; instead of wearing contacts to conceal his best asset—according to many, for that matter—he smudged soil under his eyes to distort their shape, and then smeared soil on his chin to diminish its haughtiness. He thought that his disguise as a hardworking commoner would be able to start a conversation with the son of a baker without arousing suspicion. Aldrich, unfortunately, was no longer the son of a humble baker whom he expected to have an enlightening discourse with about Soushu.

It was not only his peasant clothing that restricted him from proceeding inside the fancy restaurant; the lack of coins in his pouch would prevent him from lingering within with good reason while observing anyone who could be the proprietor, Aldrich. There was the option to ask the servers without ordering a meal; however, based on his recent experiences in other establishments of Aldrich, his efforts would be futile.

While deciding on an effective course of action, Wolfram remained across "Al's Meat" on the other side of the narrow road where other restaurants were in operation. There were stables for customers' use on either end of the narrow road, and he wished he had left his horse there instead of the makeshift stable several blocks away. The temperature had significantly dropped since his search began. Even though he had a high tolerance for cold, his horse didn't. For the sake of his horse's health, this would be his last stop, whether or not he found Aldrich.

Wolfram then peered through the glass windows with his keen eyesight. It was a couple of hours past midday. Few customers remained inside. The only two tables occupied were near the fireplace. There was a small group of ladies, some of whom had gloved fingers poised over their smiles, while the others raised teacups to their lips. He didn't linger on them for he was in search of a tall blond young man, according to the tenant of the property that used to house "Al's Bread." From where he stood, he discerned only two gentlemen; both were beyond middle-age, their balding heads thrown back as they laughed merrily in a corner booth by the window. Perhaps Aldrich was in the kitchen, not entertaining guests? Perhaps he was not inside at all. Wolfram's chin drew up and his brows knitted together in disappointment, while his desultory gaze swept across the ladies once more. It was then that he noticed someone he had overlooked earlier, someone who stood out in the company of the ladies. This person's head was a foot taller than the women. And it required a second glance to be certain he was a man despite his raven locks cascading over a white shawl draped around his shoulders. There was something extremely familiar about him.

Wolfram squinted in an attempt to enhance his already perfect vision, but the distance hindered any progress. Then, as though sensing his scrutiny, the man stood up, staring across the road in his direction. The gentleman's lady companions rose to their feet as well, but he motioned with his hand, opened his mouth, and they ended up easing themselves on their chairs again. The man turned to his right, and it was then that Wolfram realized it was not a shawl draped fashionably around his shoulders but a flowing white cape. Underneath was a brown garment tailored in a style reminiscent of their ancestors' clothing thousands of years ago. The man disappeared behind thick log posts, and Wolfram strained his neck to see where he went. Although this man was most likely not Aldrich, his familiarity arrested Wolfram's attention.

The double doors swung open, and the tall man emerged. The wind flipped his long, straight, lustrous dark hair to the sides and tousled his bangs, revealing his perfectly arched brows and black eyes. Wolfram was certain, though, that either the man's hair or eyes was false in color because only two people in Shin Makoku were double blacks, which was the term they used for those with black eyes and black hair. The tall man's face boasted of youth. Perhaps he was even younger than Wolfram, though his height, poise, and bearing seemed to belong to someone who had lived twice his age. His handsome face evoked no memories in Wolfram, and the familiarity dissipated. Wolfram soon realized it was only the gentleman's attire that initially reminded him of the Daikenja, the wise man who guided the country's original king four thousand years ago.

With no other prospective Aldrich in sight, Wolfram remained staring, highly amused at the person who chose to resemble the Daikenja in appearance.

The road was narrow, eliminating the need to look on either side for oncoming carriages. The raven-haired man crossed the distance between them in a few graceful strides comparable to a feline's. The gentleman stopped in front of Wolfram.

"Good afternoon, lad. Would you be so kind as to spare a match or two?"

The man's tone was soothingly low, crisp in its clarity, slightly condescending, and familiar. Where had he heard this voice before? Wolfram wondered, glancing up at the stranger.

The young man with eyes as dark as his hair lifted a hand as fair in complexion as milk. Between his forefinger and his third finger was a cigar twice the circumference of his slender tapered digits. "A match?" he repeated.

In such proximity, Wolfram was entranced by the beauty of the man. Momentarily forgetting his disguise, he snapped his thumb and third finger, producing a tiny flame at the end of his thumb. The man stooped to reach the flame, a slow smile tugging at a side of his mouth, almost a smirk, though Wolfram deemed he had done nothing to deserve one.

After the cigar was lit, the words of appreciation Wolfram expected to hear never came. Typical of a nobleman not to express gratitude to a commoner, he then reasoned. In silence, the young gentleman drew on the cigar, while he observed surreptitiously from the corner of his eye. Because his mother had a penchant for hosting social gatherings, organizing a party at least once every few months, it was quite surprising he had not made the acquaintance of this nobleman before. And surely he was a nobleman for he carried himself with an aplomb associated with affluence.

Even his sneeze was refined.

The young nobleman dabbed his nose with a feminine embroidered handkerchief. "It would do you good to have a hot bath."

Wolfram cocked an eyebrow. He had not expected the insult even if he reeked of the stable boy's perspiration. The rude man he could very well return to his female companions instead of suggesting he sterilized himself with hot water. He was about to speak his mind, but the man spoke again.

"It feels as if winter has arrived early. A warm bath would be nice."

The remark pacified Wolfram. The man was simply making small conversation about the weather. With an audible exhale, he eased up a bit. Should he take advantage of this man's boredom and inquire about Aldrich? He should make the most of the opportunity, he decided. "By any chance, do you know—"

"There is a soaking tub of the smoothest quartz inside," the man interrupted, motioning with a nod toward the restaurant.

Apparently, he did know the proprietor. Otherwise, he would have no knowledge of the tub. "Is the owner around?" Wolfram asked.

"Would you like to try it and share with me the experience?" the man asked, ignoring Wolfram's query. "You will be compensated handsomely."

Wolfram's eyebrows cocked in surprise, and then drew together in repugnance when the implication of the suggestion sank in. It required Wolfram enormous willpower not to sneer. If he tolerated this man's behavior a while longer, there was a possibility he would be introduced to Aldrich.

"The quartz tub arrived yesterday. Glib of merchants have fooled me much too many times to keep track of. I prefer not to be disappointed again if it isn't as superior as they claimed it would be."

Wolfram's frown deepened, no longer in displeasure—again, it was a misunderstanding after all—but in confusion. "Sir, are you by any chance an acquaintance of Al—"

"Ah, where have my manners gone? Proposing without introducing myself," the young man interrupted again, extending a hand to Wolfram. Breaking into a practiced smile, he then continued, "Aldrich is my name, though I prefer to be called Al after my parents' names—my father was Albert, my mother was Alice."

This was the man he had been searching for. Perseverance had paid off. Wide-eyed, Wolfram shook the proffered hand vigorously.

"You are?"

"Wolfram von—" Wolfram caught himself in time before blurting his identity.

"_Vo-o-on_?" Aldrich drawled. Flecks of light danced in his dark eyes as though he was amused.

In Shin Makoku, "von" was often associated with the surnames of members of the Ten Noble Families—which did not signify there existed only ten noble houses, but it was a title for the first families who surrounded the original demon king.

"Wolfram Bon, with a 'b' not a 'v'… it must be the cold that made me falter in enunciation," Wolfram said. "Sir," he added quickly.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Wolfram Bon," Aldrich said, releasing Wolfram's hand. "Returning to my proposition, would you be willing to try out my most recent acquisition?"

Wolfram swallowed with difficulty. "The soaking tub?"

The rehearsed smile flashed again. "None other," Aldrich replied. His expression then turned serious, though his eyes retained its sparkle. "To show my gratitude—whether or not the experience is as luxurious as they say—you shall receive a month's worth of complimentary meals at Al's Meat."

Aldrich didn't seem to have a shortage of willing playmates, and thus was probably truly only in need of someone to try out his quartz tub. Nothing more. On the other hand, there was something devious about him….

"Of course, your word would not be sufficient alone: I need to witness your every expression," Aldrich said. "You would also be required to keep me company during the process."

Wolfram felt the prominent bone in his throat bob as he swallowed another lump of nerves.

"Are you amenable to my terms, Wolfram Bon?"

If Wolfram was not disguised as a commoner, he would have called Aldrich a pervert… or at least voiced conditions. Unfortunately, he was disguised as one, and commoners rarely asserted their rights, especially when the reward was as generous as a month's supply of steak. Moreover, this was his chance to get to know Aldrich.

"Time is essential, Wolfram Bon," Aldrich said, pressing for a decision.

Wolfram had no intention of fulfilling his end of the bargain, and yet he needed to get to know this man further. Thus he said, "May I request for an advance on the meal? I'm famished. I doubt even the most superior tub would feel luxurious on an empty stomach."

Aldrich's watchful eyes followed a group of gentlemen entering his premises. "All right then. You shall receive partial upfront payment in the form of early dinner." Aldrich paused to take another long drag on his cigar. "I'm a generous man, Wolfram Bon. Do know, though, that trust is something I bestow only once."

OooooooooO

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**The Return of the Original Demon King**

(Chapter 2)

The young man named Aldrich ushered Wolfram inside "Al's Meat". Wolfram was requested to sit in a booth near a swinging door with a circular window similar to a porthole. Each time the door swung open, the aroma of broiled beef and spices emerged along with servers balancing silver trays on their hands.

Long after Wolfram's meal had been served, Aldrich remained in the main restaurant with the paying guests. Because Wolfram's booth was behind a log wall that concealed him from the customers, he could not observe Aldrich while he ate. Nevertheless, he heard his soothingly low voice every so often. He also heard the ladies fawning all over the young proprietor. Not once did they call Aldrich's name. Instead, they referred to him as Daikenja. This intrigued Wolfram. Did Aldrich have a penchant for imitating others? Supposing the man did, his acquaintances didn't seem to find his hobby ridiculous for Wolfram perceived no mocking tone whenever they called him Daikenja.

After a few slices of a medium-rare beef, Wolfram aligned his silver cutlery on the linen napkin. The lack of accomplishment diminished his appetite. At the rate of his progress, he would have no further excuse to get to know Aldrich while avoiding their agreement of testing his latest acquisition. On the other hand, Aldrich didn't seem to be the kind to indulge in sexual activities. His replies to his female companions were reserved in nature, devoid of flirtatious or suggestive remarks. Perhaps he had misread the man's intention, Wolfram then surmised, and testing the quartz tub would not entail compromises.

Wolfram shook his head in disapproval. What was he thinking? He was the Maoh's fiancé. With or without compromises involved, soaking in someone's tub other than his fiancé's was infidelity. Moreover, as the Maoh's betrothed he was obliged to protect his honor, dignity, and entire being. He should not be venturing alone to begin with. But then the voice of curiosity argued that his primary duty was to protect the Maoh and his country; therefore, if this man was the incarnated Soushu, his identity should be exposed.

"I thought they would never leave."

Startled by the whisper behind his ear, Wolfram's head jerked to the side, his cheek colliding with Aldrich's nose.

"Sorry," Wolfram said, sniffing slightly. Although their contact was brief, the fresh scent of the young man lingered. For someone who smoked cigar and was constantly surrounded by the rich aroma of food, Aldrich smelled clean without the help of any fragrance. Wolfram was impressed.

"Think nothing of it," Aldrich said, straightening up. He then strode toward the kitchen and pushed the door open. "Bernard…"

The door closed. Wolfram leaned over the table to hear what was being said.

"…last call for orders… no operation tonight… wish to be alone… attend to an important guest… an hour… understood?"

Wolfram reached for the glass of water and downed its contents while conceiving of another excuse to escape their agreement. Contrary to his better judgment, he found himself eager to see Aldrich's private quarters. What faster way was there to learn about a man than to see his residence?

The door swung again and Aldrich reappeared. His eyes swept Wolfram's plate, which drew forth a frown. "If your meal wasn't satisfactory, you could have informed me earlier," Aldrich said, rubbing his temple in circles.

"Oh, it was more than satisfactory. I simply am not accustomed to such large portions," Wolfram said. "Sir," he added, remembering he was disguised as a humble stable boy and needed to sound more servile when speaking to the man.

Aldrich released a sigh that seemed to be one of impatience. "If you have no intention of finishing your meal, I see no reason to stay here longer," he said, his fingers running to the back of his head and lingering there.

It was then that Wolfram noticed how much paler Aldrich's face had become and that his eyes had lost their luster. "Are you unwell, sir? I can return tomorrow."

Massaging the base of his head still, Aldrich said, "Headache has been my constant companion since birth. Think nothing of it. Besides, an agreement is an agreement. I will not take any more of your time than necessary." With his free hand, he motioned to the exit of the restaurant. "Shall we?"

Wolfram got on his feet and headed for the door. Once they were outside, Aldrich took the lead and crossed the narrow road with Wolfram following behind.

"I thought the tub was in there," Wolfram remarked, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the restaurant they had come from. "Sir."

"It is," Aldrich said monotonously. "I prefer to have the customers believe I've left. Otherwise, they'll seek my attention."

"I see. Are we going around the block then?"

"No. There's another route nearby."

Wolfram wanted to make small conversation, get to know Aldrich further, but the visage of his aforementioned companion had turned as somber as the sky. In silence, they walked in a straight course, passing other establishments. It was noticeably darker than an hour ago and the temperature was much lower. Wolfram's concern returned to his horse, but he could not come up with another plausible excuse to procrastinate. More importantly, he could not run away until he discovered where Aldrich lived.

Without slowing down, Aldrich turned left, pushed a door open, disturbing the chimes attached to it, and entered a cramped shop replete with wooden and cast-iron toys. A bespectacled man behind a table littered with broken toys glanced up at them. He smiled at Aldrich; said nothing as though it was not their first encounter that day; offered nothing as though aware the nobleman was not there to purchase anything; and then returned to mending the paint of the miniature soldier in his hand.

Seeing no other reason for the bespectacled shopkeeper to be at ease in their presence, Wolfram assumed this was another of Aldrich's many stores. "Let me guess… are we in '_Al's Toys_'?" Wolfram thought out loud, somewhat mocking the simplicity of the names of Aldrich's establishments.

Aldrich glanced over his shoulder, a frown marring his perfect features. "Pardon me?" he asked irritably.

"Nothing, sir."

Wolfram was not offended by the change in Aldrich's disposition; on the contrary, he deemed it fortunate that Aldrich's mood had gone sour. Soaking in a tub with a grumpy spectator would hardly result in seduction… Wolfram shook his head vigorously, reprimanding himself for even considering following through the arrangement.

After passing several shelves of toys, Aldrich stopped in front of a colorful rug by a door that had a sign, "Storeroom", hanging from a nail. He pushed the rug aside with his sandal. He lowered himself on one knee then lifted the hatch previously concealed by the multicolored fabric. The square opening was no more than two feet on each side.

"I hope you're not afraid of the dark," Aldrich said, motioning Wolfram to the hole on the floor, "because you will have to bear with it for a while after we jump."

Wolfram peered down and saw absolutely nothing. Fear prompted him to retreat a couple of steps. What if this was a portal to another world, perhaps the world of the Originators?

With an impatient sigh, Aldrich reminded, "Time is essential, Wolfram Bon."

When Wolfram remained unmoving, Aldrich's lips pressed into a thin line.

"If you don't trust me," Aldrich said, standing up while reaching for Wolfram's hand, "we can descend together."

With an audible gulp, Wolfram's curiosity prevailed, allowing him to be pulled closer to the hole in the floor. Before regret could settle, arms encircled his own, his face was buried against Aldrich's throat, his feet were off the ground, and then he was falling.

During the next long seconds, he was encompassed by darkness and silence as though he had gone deaf and blind.

OooooooooO

When his vision and hearing returned, Wolfram hit solid surface and bounced on top of Aldrich. With an agile mind and body, Wolfram flipped in the air and landed with his back against the mattress. He blinked at the white ceiling. Lowering his gaze to the side he found Aldrich beside him, unmoving in a bed that was not made, its thick quilt cover in a heap by their foot.

He sat up then fixed his wig while roaming his eyes. The chamber was no more than twelve feet on each side with minimal furnishing. In front of the bed was a simple armoire of distressed blue paint. On the right was a mahogany secretary with copious compartments; some of its tiny drawers were wide-open as if containing no valuables, while the books it housed were piled on its desk as though constantly used. On the left was an ordinary chair. Way above the chair, at the topmost portion of the left wall, was a set of three rectangular glass windows which stretched from one end to the other. None of the windows seemed to have an opening, and even if there was a way to open them, they were beyond Wolfram's reach even with the help of the chair.

The light beyond the windows was in shades of grey, similar to the bleakness he remembered when they were outside minutes ago, which led him to the assumption that they were in the basement of the toy shop, not in another world. His gaze returned to the ceiling and found no opening. He then concluded he was wrong.

"Psst!"

Wolfram jerked his head to the side where he perceived the source of the call. It could not have been Aldrich because his eyes and mouth were closed. The young man was unconscious, and perhaps he had hit his head hard when they descended. Dismissing what he heard as nothing more than his imagination, he stared at Aldrich. Before long, guilt and pride clashed within him: this accomplished person, who could very well be the incarnated Soushu, would not be alive today if not for his valiant act seventy years ago.

"Psst! Down here!"

Wolfram glanced at his chest where the voice seemed to originate. Although the rude caller's voice was faint, he was now certain it was not his imagination. There was also the possibility that Aldrich was conversing through his mind. He had heard of demons capable of such. He then considered rousing Aldrich, but the thought of his purpose for being there prevented him.

A sharp stinging sensation near Wolfram's shoulder prompted him to slap his collarbone. The lump he felt underneath his tattered coat made him gasp; and he was certain he heard a muffled gasp along with his. Sensing the squirming movement within his palm, he curled in his fingers, trapping the creature. He tightened his hold with every intention of squashing whatever insect had crawled its way into his garment.

"Release me this instant!" demanded the creature. "Lord von Bielefeld! You impudent—"

Because the creature knew his identity, Wolfram changed his mind about squashing it. He unclenched his fist, releasing his captive. He winced as he was scratched from his upper chest down to his abdomen. To prevent further attacks, he scrambled out of bed, grabbed the hem of his coat and flapped it away from his body, dropping the insect to the floor. The insect tumbled along the worn wooden planks.

Wolfram's brows knitted. Never before had he laid eyes on an insect with yellow bristles on one end and with a body of red, white, and blue, let alone a talking one. Then the balled form unrolled itself, revealing its normal shape, and stood up on the floor. It was an extremely small man, not an insect. His hair was blond, and atop his blue suit, he wore a red cape with white fur. The tiny man raised his head, and his blue eyes glowered at Wolfram.

"Sh… Sh…Shinou?" Wolfram stammered, wide-eyed. "I… I mean, Yo…Your Majesty?"

"Why are you spying on him?" the tiny man on the floor demanded, his red cape fluttering behind him as his outstretched arm wagged in the direction of the bed where only Aldrich could be found.

Shinou, who was the original Ruler or Maoh of Shin Makoku, had materialized in various forms while waiting for his reincarnation into that world. For thousands of years he provided counsel in his spirit form to the high priestesses and the rulers who succeeded him. After Yuuri had eradicated Soushu, Shinou began to appear in Covenant Castle in a tangible body though miniature in size. According to Shinou, his current form was a mystery even to himself.

"What do you want from him? Answer me!" barked the miniature demon king named Shinou.

"I…I…" Wolfram lowered himself to the floor. On his knees, he bent his head further then whispered to Shinou, "I had a dream. He might be the incarnated Soushu."

"He's not," Shinou said matter-of-factly. "Is everything all right at the shrine?

Frowning at the certainty of Shinou as well as his unexpected query, Wolfram pulled his head back. "As far as I'm aware, yes."

"I have not been able to get through to Ulrike for days. There's a barrier preventing me from visiting the castle grounds."

Wolfram leaned down again. "Then my dream must be significant," he said quietly, his eyes darting to the side where Aldrich lay motionless.

"Hmm… Perhaps… I assure you, though, that you are intruding on the wrong person."

"How can His Majesty be so certain?" Wolfram asked, earning him an admonishing look from the original ruler whose wisdom remained preeminent up to the present.

"Instead of questioning me, tell me more about this dream of yours."

Wolfram recounted his dream in a low tone, wary of rousing Aldrich and letting him in on his real objective for being there. When he was done, Shinou paced back and forth with arms at his chest.

While Shinou seemed to be immersed in thought, Wolfram asked in a diffident tone that emerged solely in the presence of the aforementioned demon king, "Where does His Majesty dwell when he's not in his shrine, if I may ask?

Shinou stopped moving and faced Wolfram once again. "Where I reside is nobody's business but mine," Shinou said. "Now listen carefully to my instructions."

Wolfram nodded.

"Inform Yuuri, Ulrike, and the Great Sage about our communication problem. Tell them to tear down whatever barrier is preventing me from entering the grounds of Covenant Castle. I cannot visit even my own tomb in my other form."

"His Majesty's spirit form?"

"Actually, it's my 'dream' form since that's what it is—in your head," he ended, poking at his temple.

"What about this man?" Wolfram asked, motioning with his eyes to Aldrich.

"He will never be a threat to Shin Makoku. Do not mention him to the others in Covenant Castle. Do not reveal the circumstances we had this discussion—fabricate some story that does not pertain to him or his establishments. They only know of his name on paper. Let us keep it that way. Now leave before he involves you in his life—" Shinou paused abruptly, cocking an eyebrow. Clearing his throat deliberately, he regarded Wolfram with narrowed eyes. "Have I said anything laughable?"

It was only then that Wolfram realized he was grinning. "Certainly not, Your Majesty." Beaming still, he glanced at the unconscious man at his side. "It's a great relief to learn I've protected someone who's innocent. That is all."

Shinou coughed again; this time, though, not to attract Wolfram's attention but to muffle his words, "Innocent is not something I would call him. He enjoys cleaning and pampering stray cats." In his usual resonant voice, he added, "Not being related to Soushu, however, does not mean you can trust him when he proposes to try out his quartz tub."

Wolfram gasped, and his lips remained parted for a long while. How long had Shinou been spying on him?

"With that said, get out while you are able and do as I have instructed."

"Where am I? More importantly, where is the door—Shinou!"

Wolfram rushed to Shinou who had collapsed on the floor without warning. He placed his fingers over the tiny ruler, with every intention of picking him up, when his body vanished. He lowered his head further, checking out under the bed even though he was certain Shinou would not be there.

"Your Majesty?" Wolfram called, blinking at the dust on the floor underneath the bed. "Shinou?"

"If you're searching for a way out, it is not down there."

Wolfram pushed his palms against the floor and raised himself up in a single swift motion. His head collided with something; that something, it soon transpired, was Aldrich's nose.

With a hand covering the center of his face, Aldrich said, "My sympathies to whoever shares your bed."

Wolfram's lip curled up into a sneer. "I beg your pardon?" he said, no longer servile in demeanor. Aldrich was harmless according to Shinou, thus he could probably drop his act as a stable boy. In order to get himself out of their agreement without riling Aldrich, he then began to consider disclosing his heroic deed seventy years ago.

"If you are this unaware of your surroundings while wide-awake, then what more while you are in slumber?"

At the explanation, Wolfram exhaled, releasing whatever contempt was evoked by the man's previous remark: the man was referring to his clumsiness, not his performance in bed. "I'm not usually clumsy," he said, "quite the opposite in fact. But I suppose there's no point in convincing you after hitting your nose twice in a matter of minutes."

If Aldrich had noticed the change in Wolfram's tone, he was not one to let on. Without saying a word, Aldrich got out of bed, straightened the white cape draped around his shoulders, combed his hair with his fingers, reached into the side of his brown trousers, and proceeded to the armoire. He opened the doors of the armoire, brushed aside the few clothes in wooden hangers, inserted a key into the inner panel, and then pushed it.

Inside the armoire was a seemingly endless pergola. Wolfram stared unblinkingly ahead, at the arched trellis adorned with cream and peach flowering vines. Sunlight shone brightly between the spaces of lush vines twined above the structure. The sight was as inviting as it was intriguing. "Where are we?" he mumbled, taking a step forward.

Aldrich turned sideways to allow his companion an unobstructed view ahead. A fleeting smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Welcome to my home, Wolfram Bon…"

The warmth against Wolfram's cheeks informed him what lay ahead was real and, at the same time, warned him it could not be Shin Makoku where it was autumn still.

"…where only a few have been privileged to enter and even fewer, if any, have chosen to leave."

According to Shinou, even though Aldrich would bring no harm, he could not be trusted entirely. "I suppose I belong to the minority; I'm someone who would certainly want to leave," Wolfram said, looking Aldrich in the eye. "Sir," he added, deciding right there and then that he could not reveal his identity because there was more he could unravel under a disguise. He recalled Shinou mumbling about Aldrich having a soft spot for stray cats, and a stray cat he would be.

Aldrich's rehearsed smile appeared. "You seem to have misunderstood. None is forced to stay."

"I don't think I should even enter," Wolfram said. "I thought…" his voice trailed off as he searched for the perfect excuse that would not offend Aldrich and end their acquaintance.

Aldric's chin drew up and his brows wrinkled. "An agreement is an agreement, Wolfram Bon. If you are having second thoughts, be reminded of the advance payment rendered to you."

Wolfram retreated a few steps with every utterance. "Forgive me. I didn't realize it would take this long. I don't even see your tub. In fact, I don't see the end of that path. It's getting late and I have to return my master's horse before twilight. I don't even know if his horse is still alive. I left the poor horse in the cold hours ago." When he sensed the bed against his calves, he lowered his buttocks onto the mattress. He reached inside his deep coat pocket and fumbled for his coin pouch. He glanced up at Aldrich and proffered the pouch. "It isn't sufficient for the meal, but it's better than nothing. As soon as I receive my pay, I will settle the rest of my debt—with interest if you wish," he said.

With the pouch still in his hand, Wolfram held his breath while the young man stared at him, as though searching for sincerity in his eyes, and he could only hope his countenance appeared apologetic. Only a few seconds passed, but silence prolonged the moment.

Then Aldrich said, "From the moment I saw you across the road, there was something familiar about you that evoked my trust. This has happened to me countless times in the past that I've long learned familiarity does not equate to trust. However, because you have done me no harm while I was unconscious, I will follow my instinct and forgive you for not fulfilling your end of our agreement."

Wolfram exhaled in relief. "Thank you, sir. I will settle my debt as soon…" his voice trailed off when Aldrich held up a hand to silence him.

"You are not required to settle your debt with monetary means," Aldrich said. "In fact, I wish not to see you again. Instead, because you violated our agreement and wasted precious time, I require you not to disclose anything about me, including this." Aldrich swung an arm to the pergola behind. "Should you disappoint me again, I will find you."

Wolfram had heard threats before, some of which were vacuous words inspired by the desire to intimidate, while others—often the ambiguous ones—required serious consideration. He could tell Aldrich's threat belonged in the latter category. Nevertheless, as the captain of a private army, the beloved youngest brother of General von Voltaire, and the fiancé of the Maoh of Shin Makoku, Wolfram was above intimidation. And even if he weren't all those—

"Do you understand, Wolfram Bon?"

"If I do not betray your confidence, I have nothing to fear."

"Very well. Follow me."

Aldrich turned around, lifted his foot, and stepped into the armoire. In a blink, Wolfram saw Aldrich underneath the seemingly infinite trelliswork.

"If you insist on staying behind, this portal will soon close and you will have to shatter those windows to return to the toy shop's walkway," Aldrich said.

Windows? Wolfram wondered, glancing around the bedroom, and was then reminded of the windows beyond his reach. Should he step into what seemed like a portal to another world or should he remain in what was now confirmed as the basement of the toy shop? There was the option to use the secretary and the chair to reach the windows. In a quandary, his gaze returned inside the armoire, where he noticed the pergola, along with Aldrich's back, rapidly receding.

"Wait!" Wolfram said impulsively. Before he could make up his mind entirely, he had leapt into the armoire.

OooooooooO

Wolfram landed on his haunches. Smirking, Aldrich approached him with an extended hand.

"You are a strange lad, Wolfram Bon," Aldrich said, helping Wolfram to his feet. "Your trust in me comes and goes like the wind."

The truthfulness in the remark embarrassed Wolfram. He should have stayed in the bedroom. His curiosity, though, triumphed again. "Thank you," was all he managed to mumble once he was standing up.

The pergola was not a pergola after all but more of a tunnel: instead of columns, solid walls on either side covered in flowering vines supported the arched latticework above.

"Or should I have said interest?"

"I'm sorry?" Wolfram asked, glancing up at his companion.

"Instead of 'trust', should I have said your 'interest' in me comes and goes?"

Wolfram felt his face flush. Fortunately, he didn't sense his companion looking at him. He wondered if Aldrich was flirting with him or merely stating his opinion, just as he had seemed to be doing since they met.

Instead of replying, Wolfram changed the subject. "How do we return to my master's horse from here?"

"I assume you left the horse in one of the stables at the end of the road. That is our destination."

"I thought this would lead to your tub, which you confirmed was in 'Al's Meat'. You also mentioned earlier this led to your home and I presumed your residence is located somewhere in 'Al's Meat' because of the tub."

"Since you have mentioned the tub, are you reconsidering fulfilling our original arrangement?"

"No. Definitely not!" Wolfram then added in a softer tone, "Sir."

"Strange lad indeed… even your temper comes and goes."

Wolfram ignored the remark, and steered the topic away again. "And, no, sir, my master's horse is in the stable four blocks away from 'Al's Meat'."

"If you are referring to the one near the recently refurbished tavern in town, I am quite familiar with that. This path shall lead us there then; that is, if you hold my hand and focus."

Wolfram regarded the young man's profile. There was no mischief in his eyes to contradict his matter-of-fact tone. The path, which could lead them to various places, was devoid of breaks, and he wondered what magic Aldrich possessed to create such wonder. Who was this man? More questions followed.

When the dark eyes lowered to meet his, Wolfram snapped to attention.

"I believe I have stated the condition clearly," Aldrich said. "If you wish to spare yourself a long walk, hold my hand and focus on our destination."

Nodding jerkily, Wolfram did as he was told. He gingerly slipped his hand into Aldrich's, wondering if his fiancé, the Maoh, would mind. The Maoh's proposal to him was a consequence of a serious misunderstanding. Neither of them was ready for a lifetime commitment, but they held on to their engagement for various reasons. Even though the love between them was not the same kind lovers shared, their engagement was a commitment nonetheless.

"You are not focusing on our destination."

"How can you tell?"

"Our path's not changing."

Wolfram's lips parted into a silent, "Oh."

The warmth of the sun and soothing colors of the flowers of the vines made the silence between them comfortable. Try as he might, Wolfram found it difficult to focus on his horse with all the questions pouring into his mind.

"How long was I unconscious?" Aldrich asked.

"Not very long," Wolfram replied. "Do you pass out often?"

"Whenever the headaches persist."

"You mentioned experiencing them since birth."

"I have. Sometimes I wonder if my migraines have anything to do with the man that I am in my dreams."

"I'm afraid I don't understand…"

"When I dream, I am in this man's body. I feel whatever he experiences. Sometimes he performs deeds done by the heroes in our history books. Sometimes, though, he is the antagonist. On the nights he happens to be the villain—and I must admit there are times I have difficulty telling apart dreams from reality—I often wake up shattering the mirrors when I see my own face."

"Why?"

"He greatly resembles my reflection, though much older."

"Is that the reason you changed the color of your hair?" Wolfram then regretted his question, fearing it would make Aldrich suspicious. What was his excuse for assuming black was not the real color of Aldrich's hair?

Aldrich's free hand went to his long lustrous raven hair. "I suppose this is not authentic looking after all."

Wolfram was immensely relieved Aldrich's mind conceived of an excuse for him. At ease once more, Wolfram's curiosity was rekindled. "What made you suspect this older self of yours and your headaches are related?" he asked.

"Are you focusing? Our path is not changing."

Wolfram cocked an eyebrow. He then repressed the urge to remind Aldrich who started the conversation. With an audible exhale, he closed his eyes and recalled the stable he left his horse in.

Another comfortable silence was shared between them. Wolfram was inwardly grateful for the hand in his, guiding him somehow in the darkness behind his closed lids.

When Aldrich touched Wolfram's arm firmly, motioning him to be still, the latter's eyes opened then widened instantly. The sunshine, vines, and arched trelliswork were going around them rapidly. Wolfram no longer sensed the ground beneath his feet, which were suspended in the air, just like Aldrich's.

"Tell me something unique about you, Wolfram Bon," Aldrich said, supporting Wolfram by the arm effortlessly. "Something you're proud of."

The warmth and light of the sun was diminishing.

"Even though I prefer our paths not to cross again…"

The flowering vines were dispersing.

"…I would like to remember you in a special way."

Aldrich's face and voice began to fade.

"Tell… me… special secret… accomplishment…"

Bewilderment rendered Wolfram speechless.

"Wol—"

Darkness became Wolfram's sole companion. Something hit his head. His body was crammed into a fetal position. His knees struck his chest. The air grew stifling.

OooooooooO

Wolfram flailed his arms and attempted to get up. He felt the surface above his head budge with every move. Thus he pushed it with all his might while he got to his feet. A creak and a thud pierced his ears as he emerged out of the darkness. Gasping for oxygen, he regarded his surroundings. He was standing knee-deep in a wooden chest of a decrepit shed. Ahead of him, between wide gaps of old lumber that was the shed's wall, he recognized the town. A neigh prompted him to look over his shoulder. He broke into a smile. Behind him was the makeshift stable he had tethered his horse to.

Wolfram stepped out of the chest containing tools, and then stepped under the dusky sky.

Aldrich was nowhere in sight.

He then remembered Aldrich's unanswered request. He glanced back at the chest inside the shed. "I once protected a special person," he whispered. "That is the accomplishment I'm most proud of."

OooooooooO

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**The Return of the Original Demon King**

(Chapter 3)

Upon Wolfram's return to Covenant Castle, he was informed by the manservant who greeted him that dinner was being served. Because he reeked of a garment that hadn't been washed prior to that day's quest for Aldrich, he requested the manservant to advise his usual dinner companions that he would not be able to join them. Afterward, he proceeded to the Maoh's private bath where he cleansed his body and mind. Shinou instructed him not to mention Aldrich to anyone, and, likewise, Aldrich did not wish anything they shared today to be disclosed; thus, he resolved to forget all he had witnessed earlier and remained content in the knowledge that the infant he had protected turned out to be a harmless, if not special, individual.

The lavender-scented warm water laved Wolfram until he nodded off. Before long, a familiar patter along the mosaic tiles of the bath roused him, prompting him to look over his shoulder. Through the haze of steam, he discerned a slender figure in a black suit. The man advancing toward him in nimble strides was the eighteen-year-old twenty-seventh Maoh of Shin Makoku, Yuuri Shibuya, and incidentally his fiancé.

Yuuri stood at the edge of the small pool. He glanced down, his black eyes gazing into the drowsy emerald eyes of the blond demon in the water. "Hey, welcome home, Wolf. How was your day off?" he asked chirpily, as though he had not been working for more than twelve hours that day.

"So-so," Wolfram replied, returning the grin of his fiancé with a more reserved smile. "I did bump into someone interesting," he blurted, momentarily forgetting his resolve to comply with Shinou's instructions.

"Who may that be?" Yuuri asked, bending his knees until he was sitting near the back of his heels.

"Shinou," Wolfram said, relieved he found another answer that was not a lie. "Which reminds me, he instructed me to relay to you, His Eminence, and Ulrike that he's unable to get through here, and that you should break the barrier preventing him from doing so."

The cheerful countenance of Yuuri shadowed with bewilderment. "When was this?"

"He didn't say exactly how long the situation's been like that, he simply said a few days."

Yuuri shook his head. "That's not it. What I meant to ask is when did you speak to him?"

"Late in the afternoon."

"Strange…"

"What is?"

"Conrad and I were at the shrine today upon Shinou's request—according to Ulrike."

"So you spoke to Shinou?"

"No, but Shinou spoke to Ulrike, which contradicts the message he left you with."

Wolfram's brow furrowed, only for a moment, though, for his mind was quick to conceive of an explanation: "I see… Shinou was able to reach Covenant Caster after speaking with me then. Problem solved."

Yuuri shook his head again. "Conrad and I were at the shrine this _morning_, Wolf. Shinou spoke to Ulrike right after you left for town."

Apparently, Wolfram concluded, one of the two Shinous who appeared that day was an imposter. "What was… hmm… _this_ Shinou's message?" he asked, placing his palms over the edge of the pool. In a single fluid motion, he raised his body with his arms until he was sitting over the edge.

Yuuri stood up as well. "To be wary of false heroes," he replied, his eyes following Wolfram, who by then was strutting toward the rack of towels.

Wolfram snorted. "How enlightening," he remarked sarcastically, rubbing the towel against his wet hair. "Don't we all know that by now? Seriously, what did he say?"

"According to Ulrike, Shinou's exact words were, _'Be wary of he who purports to be a knight in shining armor, for he himself is darkness incarnated.'_"

"What the…?" Wolfram mumbled, swathing his hips with the towel.

"Strange isn't it? Shinou supplied no further details. So I don't know what kind of precautionary measures we should take. Heck, I don't even know if we're supposed to do something or wait until something happens and some false hero emerges."

"What did Conrart say?" Wolfram asked, referring to his second elder brother, Conrart Weller, who was also Yuuri's advisor.

"To wait and see what happens."

"And Big Brother?"

"Gwendal said more or less the same thing."

"To be honest, I can't help be suspicious of this ambiguous Shinou who spoke to Ulrike since I myself spoke to Shinou in his usual tiny form and his usual no-nonsense, straightforward self. One of them is an imposter, Yuuri, and I have hunch it's not the Shinou I was with today."

"You have a point. However, Ulrike has lived longer than any of us; surely she can detect an imposter better than… well… any of us—no offense, Wolf."

"None taken. Anyway, we should seek the opinion of His Eminence," Wolfram suggested, referring to the reincarnated Daikenja or Great Wise Man, Ken Murata, who was presently the schoolmate of Yuuri in another world called Earth.

"Murata is taking advance summer classes, but, yeah, I suppose I should pay him a visit soon. Maybe tomorrow. Want to come along? Mama misses you." Upon hearing the clicking of heels drawing closer to the wall that divided the bedroom and bath, Yuuri added in a rush, "Uh-oh, let's talk about this in the morning. Greta's coming."

Wolfram nodded in agreement: Greta, the thirteen-year-old adopted daughter of Yuuri, need not be involved or concerned about Shinou's confusing messages.

A beaming girl with short auburn locks barged into the bath and darted toward the dashing man she also considered as her adoptive parent. "Papa Wolf!" she shrieked, throwing herself at Wolfram as though she was five years old not thirteen.

Wolfram swallowed a groan when the girl's head struck his stomach. Embracing the vibrant girl's slender form, he said, "How was your day without me, young lady?"

"Another tedious day endured without Papa Wolf," was Greta's glib reply. "Utterly boring."

Yuuri's eyes widened. Wolfram's vocabulary had influenced Greta's own over the years, and he inwardly questioned if that was a good thing or not. Nevertheless, he disapproved not so much the answer of his daughter but more of the ease she delivered it without a care for who she might offend—she was with him, in his office, the whole day. It also somewhat bothered him that his daughter was learning the art of flattery.

With pursed lips, Greta tiptoed to receive the smack of Wolfram, who appeared delighted with her response.

Wolfram placed his forefinger on the girl's snub nose. "You're coming with me next time," he said with a tender smile that matched his tone.

"Promise?" Greta asked, turning around and heading for the laundry basket at the corner of the bath.

"Promise," Wolfram replied, watching the girl's head sway from side to side, above the cylindrical canvas he had dropped his filthy clothes in.

"What are you searching for?" Yuuri asked, walking over to Greta.

"It's not there, honey," Wolfram said. "Go check your favorite purse."

With a squeal, Greta skipped out of the bath.

Yuuri had long resigned to the fact that Wolfram was quicker in construing Greta's actions. He did not mind. He was more than satisfied to see Greta happy and pampered by many. "Is she my daughter or yours?" he asked, feigning a pout. "And what did you get her this time?"

With a smug grin Wolfram ran his fingers through his wet hair. "Some scent," he replied, heading for the main chamber to see if Greta would like the perfume he purchased at the last minute from "Al's Scent."

OooooooooO

There were two reasons Wolfram regretted purchasing the perfume for Greta, who had generously applied it on every pulse point of hers: it kept him awake long after his companions in bed were snoring lightly; and the scent, deceivingly named "Innocence", aroused him mercilessly that he had to change his underwear more than once in an hour. Yuuri's loins didn't seem to be affected. The young ruler was fast asleep in his thin cotton pajamas. His legs were parted widely and the bulge in his nether region appeared normal. Because Wolfram refused to believe he was the only one affected by the perfume, he pretended to be concerned for his fiancé's health—sleeping in thin nightclothes in that late autumn night—by covering him with the blanket, when in fact he was merely inspecting if Yuuri was indeed not erect like him.

Wolfram returned to bed and lay on his side, concealing his rapidly hardening length as well as keeping it away from Greta, who was snuggling against his back as though seeking warmth. He shut his eyes and focused on a possible explanation for having two Shinous appear to them with different messages. The fresh clean scent invaded his senses before he could come up with any explanation, and he soon felt the uncomfortable moisture trapped within his tight string underwear as a result of his poor glans penis weeping again. Cursing silently, he got out of bed for the fifth time that night. He headed for the dresser where he kept his underwear beside Yuuri's. Unfortunately, he had consumed all, and he could no longer contain the audible curse from his lips.

Wolfram donned a thick bathrobe then left Yuuri's chamber. He informed the soldier guarding the Maoh's hallway that he would be in his bedroom in case the ruler looked for him.

What possessed him to purchase the perfume from "Al's Scent" in the first place? Wolfram questioned despite his own awareness of the reason. He then questioned why he wanted to be reminded of Aldrich's clean scent. Wolfram continued to berate himself until he reached his own chamber three or four hallways—depending on the route—from Yuuri's. Drawing a deep breath, he filled his nostrils with the lemon scent of the carpet's shampoo. Exhaustion made him dive on top of the covers without removing his robe.

After a few more whiffs of the carpet's shampoo, his arousal subsided. He closed his eyes and smiled.

OooooooooO

With a content sigh on his lips, Wolfram lowered his body into the warm water of a white circular quartz tub. The circumference of the soaking tub was too small for him to stretch his legs. Thus he kept his knees bent. His eyelids grew heavier with every second until he allowed them to shut entirely.

The dexterous fingertips massaging his scalp made him purr in languor. It didn't occur to him to question where he was or who his companion was. All he desired was to indulge in relaxation. He tilted his head to the side. He smiled when the expert digits brushed over his nape lightly, settled on his shoulders, and began to work on the knots there as he had tacitly commanded with such simple gesture.

With every knot removed, another knot of the ineffable kind formed below his stomach.

When his shoulder muscles were free from aches, he leaned forward, pressing his chest against his knees. Again, as though he shared the mind of the owner of the deft fingers, his back was kneaded as he had hoped.

His skin grew as sensitive as his senses. Even the sound of water lapping titillated him.

When his entire body was relaxed, his companion began to sponge his tender skin leisurely. With each stroke, water trickled down his chest ever so slowly, eliciting more sighs and purrs from him. He reclined until he felt the tub against his back once more. He soon sensed every single trail of water along his torso down to his abdomen. When the sponge lowered to his navel, he bit his lip and parted his knees, allowing the warm water unrestricted access between his thighs.

He perceived a pleasurable ache in his loins. The fingers all over him perceived the ache as well and wound around its only escape. He shifted in his seat, arching up slightly for more, and, before long, he received so much more than he could take until he cried out in ecstasy.

OooooooooO

Wolfram awoke in the dark with his lips widely parted. When he realized where his hand was and what was pooling in it, his sharp intake of breath resounded in his room.

"Innocence my ass," he hissed, getting out of bed with his left hand, dribbling with viscous substance, away from him and the sheets. He reminded himself that, in the morning, he needed to replace the contents of Greta's perfume bottle, named "Innocence", with his mother's lightest fragrance. Greta would be keen enough to notice the difference, but he would have found an excuse by then.

"Darn that quartz tub," he added, recalling his dream.

At least he was in his chamber and alone, he then consoled himself. A part of him was also somewhat grateful for not seeing his companion in his dream: if he did, he would no longer have the clear conscience to demand fidelity from his fiancé.

"This is your punishment for holding hands with a possible pervert who enjoys cleaning stray cats, Wolfram Bon," he muttered wryly while rinsing his hands in the washbasin. "Now you're bewitched," he added, wondering where he had tossed his underwear while in slumber.

It was not as if he had fantasized about Aldrich, he then added to his defense. It was—

All thoughts were suspended when Wolfram thought he heard an explosion. He rushed to the nearest window, drew apart the curtains, and peered outside. Moonlight streamed onto the courtyard that appeared undisturbed. He then walked to the opposite side of his bedroom, opened the balcony doors, and stepped outside the nippy air. Below the hill where Covenant Castle was situated, he noticed that a certain area was lit with flickering lights. It was past two in the morning according to the clock in his room. Villagers slept right after their evening meal. For this reason, he assumed that the illuminated area was in town since it was the only place expected to be alive—or at least have some semblance of activity—even after midnight.

He perceived a brief round of shouts and roars, and soon realized that the sound was similar to what he believed was an explosion earlier. The commotion stopped as abruptly as it did previously. Perhaps there was a brawl wherein spectators cheered on their candidates with every successful blow to the opponent. Perhaps a bunch of inebriated juveniles were having a rowdy celebration. Perhaps there—

Piercing screams interrupted Wolfram's conjectures. This time the desperate cries and menacing roars did not end.

Wolfram returned into his bedroom. He donned a clean pair of underwear, slipped on his boots, and grabbed his sword. Without bothering to change his clothes, he dashed out of his room. He informed the guards at the hallway to notify Conrart Weller, who was not only his brother and the Maoh's bodyguard but also the Chief of Security, about the disturbance below the hill, most likely in town.

Since Wolfram was wide-awake, he ran to the stable to get his horse. He galloped down the hill and headed for town.

OooooooooO

When Wolfram reached the wooden archway entrance that flaunted the town's growing population count, he tugged at his reins, commanding his horse to slow to a trot. He regarded the situation with disbelief. Even at that late in the night, more than a few men and women of all ages had emerged from their quaint houses, taverns, or whatever establishment they resided. Some scampered quietly along the cobblestone streets and disappeared in various directions; others were running with dread etched on their faces and desperate shouts for help spilled from their wide-open mouths as they fled from the source of terror. The source of terror only became known to Wolfram when a few of them swooshed under a lamppost in pursuit of a calico cat whose colorful tail and hair stood stiff in both anger and trepidation. The enemies were streaks of light darker than the night. They hovered in the air, darting after anything that moved. For this reason, Wolfram dismounted his horse, tethered it to one of the maple trees flanking the entrance, and then proceeded on foot.

Wolfram unsheathed his sword as he crossed underneath the arched entrance. He wasn't the only one armed. A group of three men with protruding stomachs were huddled under a lamppost, their backs pressed against each other, and in their fat fingers they wagged broken bottles, sweeping the air errantly, and ready to inflict injury to the enemies. On the other side of the road, a man with a butcher knife stood in front of a meat shop that was boarded up for the night. He was shouting to his wife and children watching him from the second story of the shop. Wolfram heard the family man's repeated instruction to close the window and seal the fireplace, and he no longer questioned why some chose to leave their homes instead of remaining inside. Most likely the enemy invaded any opening, and almost every structure in town had chimneys. Wolfram then heard the man's wife pleading him to return inside, but the family man insisted on fighting to protect the town. The family man's answer made Wolfram proud, reinforcing his belief that Mazokus were brave. He liked the man, and he advanced toward him in hopes of receiving a sensible account of the situation.

"What is happening?" Wolfram asked, frowning when heard a distant menacing roar followed by the shattering of glass.

Upon sensing Wolfram's approach, the family man retreated a few steps. With shaking hands, he held out the butcher knife between him and Wolfram.

"I am Captain von Bielefeld," Wolfram introduced himself, noticing the man's leeriness. "I need to know the situation."

The man's eyes were glazed over from disquiet. He glanced at Wolfram from head to toe, and then lingered on his face, studying him warily.

"They're coming! They're coming!" a boy shouted above them.

A girl shrilled, "Papa, pl—"

"Hugo!" a woman screamed. "Come inside, I beg you!" she added, ending in a hysterical cry.

Wolfram looked up at the second story of the meat shop. He followed the direction of the fingers and horrified stares of the man's wife and children. They were pointing at the clay roofs behind them.

From all sides, he heard more roars, shattering of glass, and shouts. The absence of the troops he requested from the chief of security made him dread the possibility that Covenant Castle was under attack as well by now. He was given no opportunity to dwell on such fear for in a matter of seconds the dark streaks from the sky swooped down to their level. The group of potbellied men across the road wagged their broken bottles with curses and threats spouting from their lips. The enemies managed to avoid the makeshift weapons and penetrated the openings of the faces of their victims.

"Hugo!"

"Run, Papa, run!"

"Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no…" the family man muttered repeatedly.

Wolfram glanced behind him and saw the man's tears stream down his cheeks and quivering lips. "Calm down. You can't defeat them the way you are. Return to your fam—"

"Shinou help us," the man prayed desperately to the deceased original demon king. He swung the butcher knife over his shoulder, preparing to lower its glistening sharp blade upon his enemies. "May His Majesty forgive me for slaughtering my own dear friends."

"What do you mean?" Wolfram asked.

Wolfram was answered not by the family man but by the growl across the road. The men whose bodies had been invaded by the enemies were regarding them menacingly. The one on the left was cracking his knuckles and tilting his head on either side, stretching his neck; the parted lips of the man in the center curled and twisted as a guttural sound escaped his throat, while his shoulders hunched with his arms curved down; and the man on the right was clutching his hair, his head inclined to the dark sky, yelling like a demented with spittle spewing from his mouth.

Taking the lives of the possessed men would be against Yuuri's wishes. With this in mind, Wolfram sheathed his sword again.

"Hugo, I beg you, come inside!" a woman shouted from above.

"Shut the window!" the family man shouted back. "For the children's sake, shut that window!"

"Do as your wife says," Wolfram told the trembling figure beside him. While he summoned his fire dragons, he sensed the family man remaining by his side still. "Go!" he barked.

A hiss prompted Wolfram to lower his gaze. On the cobblestone road was the calico cat he had seen earlier. It hissed aggressively again. Yuuri told Wolfram once that running over a black cat would bring bad luck. Even though Wolfram did not believe in superstitions from Earth, he hoped killing a cat would not bring misfortune to the family man who he then sensed was swinging a butcher knife in the direction of the leaping possessed cat.

Wolfram faced his potbellied opponents. As soon as they took a step forward, he flung three fire dragons toward them. Apparently the enemies could not care less for the bodies of their victims: the men controlled by the dark streaks continued to cross the road, indifferent to the flames. Wolfram retracted his fire dragons before he burned the audacious victims of the real enemies.

Because the family man stubbornly stayed with Wolfram, he unsheathed his sword again "If you don't want to kill your friends, use this," he said, tossing the family man his scabbard for use as a non-lethal weapon.

The family man mumbled his gratitude.

Wolfram then decided he would use the hilt of his sword to knock down his opponents.

Inflicting blows on the potbellied men proved to be an easy task to a skilled swordsman like Wolfram. Unfortunately, rendering them unconscious seemed impossible.

While Wolfram and the family man parried the attacks of their opponents, more demented creatures emerged from either end of the road. A few elderly men trudged out of the town's barbershop while a naked man and woman had jumped from its upper floor. Some of the people in the rapidly crowding road appeared mentally sound and did their share of fighting those whose minds had been manipulated by the dark streaks. The absence of the dark streaks made Wolfram speculate that they had all successfully found vessels in the bodies of the townsfolk.

The situation escalated by the second. The lucid fighters sustained more injuries as they lost against the infinite strength of their enemies. Wolfram's futile attempts to bring down any of his opponents frustrated him, and he was tempted more than once to use the sharp edge of his sword. An errant breeze carried a waft of fumes, and he could only hope there were sane water wielders around to extinguish the unseen fire he was certain had started.

When the ground began to shift, Wolfram dismissed it as a vibration from the rough activities on the road. With both hands full—one fist pounding while the other jabbing his hilt on any deranged being in proximity—he did not notice the stems emerging from underneath. Only when he could no longer move his feet did he lower his eyes and discover that his boots were being held in place by stems that twined around them. He severed the vines with his sword while punching a possessed man with his other hand. More stems sprouted from the ground. They crept up any moving object. Everyone on the road was soon besieged by another enemy in the form of vines. Many were already covered by the vines with the tip of the stems penetrating the openings of their faces.

Greta's perfume permeated Wolfram's senses. Because of the situation, he was not aroused by the light fragrance. Instead, he questioned its source for he perceived it in all directions and it grew stronger with the passing of time.

Groans resounded through the town as the new enemy triumphed at a rapid pace. Because he needed the use of both hands to defend himself against the possessed people, Wolfram was no longer able to avoid the vines which persistently climbed up his body. His opponents were rendered immobile around the same time his hands were trapped in the twines of the new enemy.

"Ah, so this is the source of 'Innocence,'" Wolfram muttered as the vines constricted his chest. He then recalled the seemingly endless trelliswork and its flowering vines. Could this be the same vines? "Damn you, Aldrich… you are the incarnated eternal darkness after all."

How much time had passed since he arrived? Five minutes? Eight minutes? Wolfram wondered, shutting his eyes and pressing his lips tightly as the climbing plants crawled up his neck.

No longer than ten minutes, he supposed while enduring the pain induced by the tips of the stems penetrating his ears.

It required only ten minutes to defeat a demon of his stature, he admitted disdainfully as the stems penetrated his nostrils. His brothers, mother, and fiancé, would be put to shame by this. Covered with vines, they would probably find him looking like a shrub shaped like a man. The image he conceived evoked laughter despite the pain. The only consolation he found in such sudden death was that no one would know he had protected the incarnated Sou—

Wolfram's self-deprecating thoughts ceased abruptly when the stems finally reached the recesses of his mind.

OooooooooO

When Wolfram came to, eyes replete with concern greeted him. "Lord Wel—Brother," he whispered, managing to smile despite his drowsy state.

"I found Lord von Bielefeld," Conrart hollered to the soldiers reviving those who remained unconscious along the road.

The sky was still dark, and Wolfram perceived people scurrying and chattering around him. "I know who's responsible for this," he said in a weak tone he himself did not recognize.

"Shhh... Save your energy; don't force yourself to speak now," Conrart said, slipping his hands under Wolfram's knees and back. He gently lifted his brother from the ground.

"No…listen. Find him… before he wreaks havoc again," Wolfram muttered, closing his eyes. "Aldrich… surname Drich…"

Conrart attempted to hush his younger brother in vain. Thus he listened as he carried him toward the carriage. Wolfram spoke in fragments of an Aldrich, a miniature Shinou, a dream about the past, an infinite pergola, and the incarnated Soushu. Although the bits of information disclosed were incoherent, Conrart retained them in his memory with every intention of making sense out of them upon their return to Covenant Castle.

Before the drone of voices in the town they had departed could fade away, Wolfram lost consciousness again inside the carriage, snuggled in the protective arms of Conrart.

OooooooooO

The second time he came to, Wolfram was dozy still and didn't bother to open his eyes. He could tell, though, that he was in Yuuri's chamber since he recognized the familiar luxurious mattress against his body; moreover, he heard the voices of Yuuri, his brothers, and Gunter von Christ, who was Yuuri's mentor. He perceived them nearby.

"Over fifty are taking credit for the vines: three of them are not even Mazokus; five are wind wielders; ten manipulate the water element; twelve could summon fire; and the only earth wielders on the list are unable to produce vines."

"Didn't I predict this outcome, Gunter? You should have been more discreet in finding out who produced those vines. Now they're all taking credit with expectations of receiving a reward for saving an entire town."

"What about this man Wolf spoke of—is he on the list?"

"No. Not yet, Your Majesty."

"Have you spoken to him, Conrad?"

"We haven't seen him, and none of those employed by him are willing to disclose his residence. My men conducted a thorough search of his toy shop, but found no hidden basement that led to his home as Wolfram described."

"Wolf must have dreamt that day as well then. Either that or you didn't understand him clearly—no offense, Conrad."

"I thought that as well. However, the reluctance of his employees to assist us—who are acting upon His Majesty's request—engenders suspicion."

"We should close his businesses until he surrenders."

"Surrender? Gwendal, we haven't proved he's guilty of anything. In fact we owe him gratitude for removing whatever manipulated the townsfolk last night. And I am now convinced he's not the false hero Shinou spoke of since he refuses to take credit for such achievement."

"His Majesty summoned for him. He's nowhere to be found. Now he's guilty of not complying with His Majesty's order."

"That's not what I was referring to, Gwendal."

"I'm aware of what His Majesty…"

Secured by the familiar surrounding and companions, Wolfram did not fight the slumber that continued to beckon him even though a part him wanted to listen further.

OooooooooO

Wolfram's head grew heavy with excessive sleep and he finally woke up. In the dark, he sensed Greta's head nudging his arm. He slipped his hand under her cheek, gently lifted her head off him, and eased it on the bed. There was only a hint of the "Innocence" perfume on the girl, and he was inwardly grateful.

Then, just as he managed to sit up, he was slapped on the face with something damp. While the cloth was pressed over his mouth and nose, his wrists were grasped together from behind, and his hands were covered with something moist, rendering ineffective whatever flames had yet to be summoned from his palms and fingertips.

Taken by surprise, Wolfram gasped, inhaling the sweet-smelling liquid the cloth was imbued with. His attempt to shout worked against him, exposing his lungs further to the chemical pressed over his face.

The chemical that induced unconsciousness took effect before Wolfram's struggle could rouse either of his companions in bed.

OooooooooO

When Wolfram regained consciousness, he saw nothing, and soon realized he was blindfolded, gagged, and all four of his limbs were bound to the sides of the hard surface he was sitting on and leaning against. His hands remained enclosed in wet cloths; thus he could not burn whatever held him to what he presumed to be a chair. He jerked sideways, and the chair squeaked and created several thuds as its legs rocked on the floor.

Deeply frustrated, he swayed violently until he was toppled to the floor. He groaned when the right side of his head, shoulder, and knee collided with the cold hard surface. He attempted to get to his feet, but the chair fastened to his limbs prevented him.

A soft yawn that could pass for a long sigh prompted him to be still.

"You have finally awoken," a familiar voice said nearby.

Wolfram tilted his head to the side, trying to perceive the distance between him and his abductor. The gag over his mouth muffled the curses he directed to his unseen captor. He then perceived a faint slapping on the floor. It drew closer to him, passed by his side, and stopped behind him. His body left the cold floor, and in a heartbeat he was sitting upright again.

"You disappointed me again, Wolfram Bon—or should I address you by your real surname?"

Aldrich! Wolfram's mind named his abductor. He wanted to demand for an explanation and more, but what progress could he expect when only laughable sounds escaped his covered mouth?

"I warned you that I would find you if you revealed to anyone what I have shown you," Aldrich said, stroking the back of Wolfram's hair. "Yet you chose to challenge my warning. Now all my businesses have been forced to retire."

With all his might, Wolfram reclined abruptly, intending to land a blow on Aldrich's abdomen with the back of the chair. But Aldrich was able to step aside swiftly, and Wolfram ended up hitting his head on the wall.

Aldrich chuckled. "I am no longer intrigued by your audacity," he said, going in front of Wolfram. He then lowered himself into a squatting position. "You are after all not a meek peasant who tends to his master's horse but the most pampered son of the former Maoh, yes?

"Since we touched the subject of your mother, tell me…"

Wolfram gasped when unseen fingers glided along his inner thigh and inched dangerously close to his crotch.

"…is this her negligee?" Aldrich ended, resting his hand on the smooth upper thigh of his captive.

Wolfram rocked again in an attempt to get rid of the hand on his flesh, but Aldrich held the back of the chair firmly. Wolfram sensed a fabric against his forehead, and could almost feel the warmth emanating from the body leaning over him.

"It suits you," Aldrich whispered teasingly into Wolfram's ears.

Then the warmth was gone. Wolfram heard the faint slap on the floor again, and it grew distant from him. Something hissed. A waft of cigar smoke assailed his nostrils. The faint slapping on the floor returned, drawing closer to him. The fabric touched his forehead again.

"Enough of games," Aldrich said, fumbling with the knot of Wolfram's blindfold. "I have expelled much energy in the past twenty-four hours. I am exhausted. And patience is not one of my virtues when I am weary. Therefore, you will listen to me, Wolfram von Bielefeld. Afterward, you are required to explain a few things. Your release will depend on the truthfulness of your answers," he ended, freeing Wolfram from the confines of the blindfold.

Although the room was illuminated by only three candles in a candelabrum, Wolfram's eyelashes fluttered as he grew accustomed to light once more. With lowered eyes, he saw his ankles tied to the front legs of the chair, his thighs widely parted underneath his flimsy negligee. He then directed his gaze across where he found Aldrich's bare feet, one dangling above the other. Aldrich was sitting on the bed with one of his legs crossed over the other. Wolfram's eyes traveled the length of his abductor's dark loose trousers and up the white silk long-sleeved shirt that was not tucked. He averted his gaze from the well-defined muscular chest revealed by the unbuttoned white shirt and moved to the man's face.

Wolfram stared. Then he blinked. And stared again. If his mouth was not gagged, it would have remained open nevertheless as he regarded with disbelief the face in front of him. Could this be the real face of Aldrich? The fresh wound on the high cheekbone and shadows under the sapphire-blue eyes informed him the man was devoid of cosmetics unlike when they first met. Were the golden wavy locks, framing his face and stopping a few inches down his collar, his real hair? The man he had spoken to yesterday said Aldrich was blond.

"I have long suspected that the man that I am in my dreams—the one I mentioned to you yesterday—is either your original demon king or someone who wishes to be him," Aldrich said. "You do know who I am referring to now, do you not?" He then drew on his cigar.

Dumbfounded, Wolfram could only watch the spiral of smoke change shape in the bedroom he remembered was the basement of the toy shop.

OooooooooO

TBC

**Author's Note: **Even though the plot and fantasy aspect of this story remains a "T", the rating has been changed to "M" because of some naughty parts (just naughty, and should there be a need for something more intense, they will be implied).

So far it's been a pleasure conceiving this different kind of romance (from my usual, that is), but since writing is not that easy for me, it often requires a little more motivation to put down what's in my mind. Sadly, very few are interested in Shinou x Wolfram pairing, and most likely even fewer are in interested this version of Shinou as well as the story itself. If you happen to be one of the few reading and enjoying this, please, let's make this journey more fun by exchanging opinions. If you don't like your feedback displayed in public, you may send me a private message (PM) instead of a review.

Lastly, thank you to Tenshi no Nanimo and Raywolf Shibelt for the constant support. Readers/fanfic authors, and friends like you keep stories alive.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Return of the Original Demon King**

(Chapter 4)

In the modestly furnished bedroom, hazy with cigar smoke and illuminated by three candles, Aldrich provided his lone audience an account of his life. Although his narration was neither sparing nor superfluous in details, it went on long enough for his sole audience, Wolfram, to go numb, particularly around his bound wrists and ankles, while his jaws seemed locked as they had been forced to remain open by loops of rope wound around his head since his abduction.

At first, Wolfram was stupefied at the remarkable resemblance of Aldrich to Shinou, though the former appeared a few decades younger than the latter. Then, around the same time Aldrich had finished his introduction of describing the manner in which he was brought up by a humble baker and his wife, Wolfram's attention returned to his current predicament of captivity, and consequently grew disconcerted upon noticing that his captor's sapphire-blue eyes occasionally lowered to the ruffled hemline of his mid-thigh negligee, particularly between his knees, which were forced to remain apart while his ankles remained fettered to the front legs of the chair he sat upon. The only thing that held back Wolfram from blowing off steam was the absence of lewdness in Aldrich's countenance and voice. As a matter of fact, the emotions contained in Aldrich's gaze and tone stayed in harmony with his story. For instance: he spoke of the only parents he had known, the baker and his wife, with utmost affection; he displayed evident resignation, if not apathy, when he mentioned he would never meet his biological parents who, he was told, had abandoned him at the baker's doorstep; and there was apparent frustration whenever his headaches and dreams were brought up.

It was the subject of headaches and dreams that captured Wolfram's interest, helping him disregard his physical discomfort as well as the assault to his dignity whenever Aldrich's eyes darted in the direction of his exposed bulge. According to Aldrich, since he was a child, dreams visited him constantly. And when he learned to read and write—both of which he had mastered as effortlessly as an infant knowing without being taught how to extract milk from a mother's nipple—he realized that most of his dreams had been a part of Shin Makoku's history. With regards to his headaches, he revealed they were often followed by a period of unconsciousness.

"Because the man in my dreams resembled not only me but the original ruler of Shin Makoku, I asked my father, Albert, if there was any possibility the first Maoh's blood runs in me. I was at a tender age at that time, and I would have been proud if I was indeed related to the subjugator of the Originators," Aldrich said, uncrossing his legs then crossing them again, switching the side that was on top. He then paused to take a long drag on his cigar. "Of course, my father could not possess such knowledge for I was abandoned at his doorstep without anything but the sheepskin I was wrapped in."

Wolfram could have informed Aldrich he was deceived by the circumstances he had been found by the baker named Albert; that Albert had picked up Aldrich in the clearing of the forest; that his biological parents and their cabin had been reduced to cinder because of a prophecy that Aldrich was the incarnated Soushu, Leader of the Originators; and that he, Wolfram von Bielefeld, protected the baby wrapped in sheepskin from the fire and thus did not deserve to suffer contemptuous treatment by the very beneficiary of his valiant act. Unfortunately, the gag over his mouth prohibited him from doing so.

"This is where my first question to you comes in: is there a possibility that the first Maoh had a child, brother, father, or any other living kin before his demise? The history books mention none. However, since you are a descendant of one of his trusted comrades, Rufus von Bielefeld, I am hoping you are privy to such personal matters," Aldrich said. "A nod or shake of the head will suffice."

Wolfram reminded himself that his release depended on the accuracy of his answers. The answer to the first query was not something he needed to withhold, and hence he shook his head without hesitation, which earned him a nod that indicated he appeared to have replied according to the best of his knowledge.

"Although I had hoped otherwise—when I was young, that is—I suspected as much," Aldrich said. "And when the dreams—perhaps nightmare is more apt a term—began about his futile struggle to overcome the evil growing within him, I began to despise him. Much of what he had shown me in my mind had been deleted—or should I say omitted?—from history books. I suppose the priority of our historians lies not on details but on the preservation of the original demon king's glory.

"Before I digress further with my opinions, I best impart my second question: did the original Maoh become another hapless victim of the Originators?"

Wolfram weighed the possible consequences if the truth was disclosed. Aldrich didn't seem to be the kind to spread such knowledge. And even if he did, Yuuri had already released Shinou from the manipulation of the Originators. More importantly, regardless of Shinou's misfortune, it would not diminish his accomplishment of subjugating the Originators for over four thousand years. It remained a feat no one could deny belonged to him as well as Daikenja, who aided him throughout the execution of his plan.

"I am waiting, Wolfram," Aldrich reminded, removing his gaze from the space between his captive's knees and focusing it on his captive's emerald-green eyes.

Wolfram nodded in reply.

"If that is the case then I suppose it is also true that he merged his corrupted soul with the enemy's, and then enclosed all the evil he had amassed by such heroic if suicidal act into those boxes. Am I right? That is my third question."

Wolfram nodded again.

"According to the man in my dreams, he managed to escape from the boxes. My question is: did the original demon king's soul escape from its prison chambers seventy years ago?"

Wolfram's brow furrowed. He then shrugged in response. He had never heard of such rumor. Moreover, Shinou was evidently under the control of Soushu when the boxes began to leak _three_ years ago, not seventy years ago. Aldrich's question, however, made him consider the possibility. Perhaps that was exactly what had happened: perhaps a part of Soushu—not Shinou—had escaped seven decades ago, which gave rise to the prophecy at that time that darkness had been incarnated. The probability that Aldrich was the chosen vessel of the soul in question would also explain how he gained knowledge of such. On the other hand, if Aldrich was the vessel of darkness, why did he seem to be not entirely aware of his identity?

"I am waiting, Wolfram. Did the first Maoh's soul escape from his prison chambers? Or rather those boxes… whatever you call those containers."

Shinou would never risk leaving Soushu. With this conviction, Wolfram shook his head.

"If that is the case, my final question for the night is: did the Leader of the Originators—or a part of it—escape from the boxes seventy years ago?"

Wolfram shrugged.

Aldrich's countenance betrayed no emotion while he studied Wolfram for a while. Then, with a sigh, Aldrich twisted to the side and put out his cigar on the glass ashtray conveniently placed beside him on the bed. "Since you have rendered civility, you have earned freedom from those fetters," he said, getting to his feet.

Wolfram sat still while his abductor leaned forward. He shut his eyes when the well-defined chest, exposed by the unbuttoned white silk shirt, drew closer to his face. He also held his breath, refusing to whiff the man's scent that was similar to Greta's perfume, in fear of stirring his loins. Unfortunately for him, his abductor took time untying the knot behind his head. If he was not gagged, he would have suggested Aldrich to cut off the rope instead of fumbling with its knot.

With an impatient sigh, Aldrich pulled his captive's head to his chest. The head in his palm reclined abruptly, but his hand was quick in pressing it to rest below his pectorals again, earning him a violent objection. "Stop shaking and leave your head where it needs to be," Aldrich said, fumbling with the knot. "Otherwise I will not be able to untie this." Although Wolfram had ceased struggling, his breathing grew heavy, and Aldrich expected retaliation once his mouth was free from obstruction. For this reason, Aldrich stood back, creating a narrow distance between his chest and Wolfram's forehead. "If you bite me or bring me harm in any manner, you will never be able to return to Covenant Castle," Aldrich said as he unwound the rope around Wolfram's head.

Curses spilled from Wolfram's dry lips; his parched throat rendered them indistinct.

Aldrich lowered himself on one knee. While he worked on the rope around Wolfram's right wrist, he said, "Your voice is nasty. Do you prefer to have a glass of water now or should I proceed with this?"

"Uck ooo!"

"Hmm? Was that a curse? Whatever it was, it could not have been a 'yes,' which is fortunate because I suddenly remembered I do not have water in hand. Speaking of hand, I suppose I could use mine to obtain water; however, I prefer to conserve energy for our journey to my home."

"Gwat?" Wolfram uttered in a raspy voice. He didn't like the way he sounded. Thus, while trying to relax his recently freed jaws, he swallowed his saliva to alleviate the dryness of his throat.

"I gather that was a 'what' you were trying to say," Aldrich said, unwinding the rope from Wolfram's wrist. "Well, yes, I can manipulate water… as well as wind, earth, and fire. Therefore, in case you are considering reducing me to ashes, do know that I'm impervious to fire," he ended, removing the wet cloth from Wolfram's hand.

Even though his question was not related to the elements, Wolfram was astounded to learn this man crouching before him wielded all four of them. Stunned by the revelation, he blinked absently at the skin of his fingertips, which were wrinkled from long exposure to wetness. To his knowledge, only one person in the history of Mazokus had been able to control all the elements, and he was none other than Shinou. Did Shinou's nemesis envy him so much that he chose his incarnation to resemble not only Shinou's appearance but his qualities as well? Aldrich would be a formidable opponent once he became one with his previous being who most likely was Shinou's nemesis, Soushu.

"Ah," Aldrich said, working on releasing Wolfram's other hand, "or were you aghast to learn we are heading to my home and not yours?"

Since Aldrich was perceptive enough to recognize his source of indignation moments ago, Wolfram was then reminded of his foremost concern and nodded vigorously.

"I recall advising you that your release depended on the accuracy of your explanations," Aldrich reminded. "What you have provided so far are mere answers. My other concerns will be revealed in due time. If you continue to be in your best behavior and cooperate, you shall receive freedom in installment. Understood?"

"Fuck. You," Wolfram grumbled, and was grateful to hear his normal voice returning.

"You may… when we reach my home… be warned, though, that I may not be in my best condition for I am exhausted." Aldrich flashed a forced smile then got to his feet. "I have rendered more than enough compassion to someone who had betrayed me twice," he added, motioning with his eyes to the ropes on the floor. He turned around and headed for the armoire. "The rest is up to you."

Before Aldrich could even finish talking, Wolfram had already lowered his chest to his lap and began untying the rope around his right ankle. Wolfram heard the armoire's door swinging open, the wooden hangers being pushed, and the click produced by the key being inserted in place. He contemplated on his course of action. Should he escape now or should he learn what kind of opponent Shin Makoku was dealing with? But was this man truly the nation's enemy? If he was, then wouldn't it be easier to possess the mind and body of the Maoh's fiancé and infiltrate Covenant Castle? Or was he some mere pervert who sought retribution for the betrayal that cost him his businesses? According to Aldrich, his businesses had been forced to retire out of suspicion that he was responsible for the vines as well as the dark streaks which besieged the town last night. One of the high profile victims pointed fingers at him and provided his restaurant-cum-residence, "Al's Meat", and another route to his residence, which was the basement of a toy shop near the aforementioned restaurant. Since the Maoh's fiancé was the only high profile victim last night and his features had much in common with Wolfram Bon's, and Wolfram Bon was the most recent person he escorted to the toy shop's basement, Aldrich concluded that Wolfram Bon and Wolfram von Bielefeld were the same person and the very man who betrayed him.

Still uncertain with what to do, Wolfram worked on releasing his other ankle from the chair. He had to admit that "animosity" was too harsh to describe what he felt toward Aldrich. A part of his dislike for Aldrich was engendered only because of the probability that he was the incarnated Soushu, while the rest of his aversion was evoked by the young man's sexual harassment—never before had his thighs been touched suggestively without permission, nor had anyone dared to stare at his crotch unabashedly.

There was also the mysterious man in Aldrich's dreams to unravel. If the man in the dreams was Soushu attempting to dominate Aldrich, then Soushu had not yet achieved his goal because Aldrich seemed to be very much in control of his mind still. And perhaps Aldrich could be saved, Wolfram surmised, his optimism influenced by that of his fiancé's who believed none was beyond salvation. But the biggest mystery was the reason Soushu was not one with his own incarnation.

Wolfram was aware the only way he could find the answer was to get to know Aldrich further.

"Wolfram," Aldrich called in his usual low soothing tone, "make haste."

Wolfram glanced to the side, where he then saw and recognized the arched trellis beyond the inner panel of the armoire.

"The portal will not remain open for long," Aldrich explained, striding toward the mahogany secretary on the other side of the bed.

Aldrich snuffed out the candles in the candelabrum atop the secretary's desk, leaving the grey skies above the arched trellis as the only source of light.

Wolfram hurried with his task. Once both of his ankles were freed, he stood up. Before he could take a step, he dropped onto the floor. His buttocks slapped the hard surface. He groaned and cursed, while Aldrich's bare feet pattered toward him.

"Your limbs have fallen asleep," Aldrich said, bending, slipping his hands under Wolfram's arms. When his hands were shrugged off, he exhaled audibly, impatiently. "We do not have the luxury of time. I cannot wait for you to recover."

"Then leave," Wolfram said, using his hands to lift his numb knees, one after the other, until his feet were flat on the floor. He then placed his palms on the bed. "I never asked to come with you in the first place," he added, straightening his elbows and pushing himself up from the floor. He began to conceive of another plan: once Aldrich was gone, he would shatter the windows of what was presumably the basement of the toy shop.

Aldrich straightened up. "Fine. Stay here if you wish. I will return in a fortnight. I suppose you could survive without food and water until then." Aldrich headed for the open doors of the armoire. Glancing over his shoulder, he added, "Oh, and if you think you will end up in town should you manage to go through those windows, you are mistaken. After they searched the restaurant and the toy shop, I chose another location for the portal to my home. I highly doubt you will find your location familiar."

Was he in another nation? Perhaps in another world? Wolfram's mouth opened, releasing an inaudible gasp. Or was Aldrich bluffing? Should he stay or go then? Wolfram questioned. But there was no time to deliberate the right decision because Aldrich already had a foot inside the armoire. Thus he swallowed his pride. "Wait!" he shouted, remaining bent over the bed with his palms flat against the mattress to support the weight below his numb lower limbs.

Aldrich's sigh this time was evidently from annoyance and accompanied by a rumble in his throat. "I am too exhausted to tolerate your arbitrary decisions, Wolfram von Bielefeld. If you dislike my company and do not appreciate the kind of assistance rendered—"

"All right, all right, I get it. Shut up and help me here, will you?" Wolfram snapped, jerking his head to the side and glaring at the man standing a few feet away. Realizing he had more to lose by being blunt, he then grumbled a halfhearted apology. "Please," he then breathed in a tiny voice that escaped through his forced smile.

Aldrich's lips twitched at the corners. "No struggling," he warned sternly, striding toward Wolfram.

OooooooooO

There was a good reason for Wolfram not to mind the way Aldrich carried him on the shoulder like a sack of potatoes with an arm crooked around his buttocks: the view from behind, which Wolfram was facing, proved to be more intriguing than Aldrich's, who was facing the seemingly endless path ahead. With every stride Aldrich took, the arched trellis above and the walls on either side of the path he had stepped on dispersed in the air. The walls, leaves, and flowers of the flowering vines scattered in the direction they came from and vanished. Dark water and mist replaced everything that used to be behind, and extended to the sides until the gloominess stretched far enough for Wolfram to believe he was looking at a vast lake with nothing beyond and on either side but more murky water and dense fog.

"It used to be sunny here," Wolfram remarked. "Or is it following the time of day now?" he asked, assuming it was already dawn since he was abducted during the night.

"With every step I take, the portal assesses then reflects my well-being."

Wolfram's lips parted into a silent "O." If that was the case, Aldrich must be either suffering melancholia or succumbing to his dark side, Wolfram surmised, though not alarmed for the man seemed in no rush to harm him. Nevertheless…

"You can put me down now," Wolfram said. "I can feel my legs."

"We are almost there."

"But my stomach hurts. Your shoulder isn't exactly a comfortable place to lean on."

"What did I say about whining?"

"Absolutely nothing. You said no _struggling_, not whining."

"Whining is included then."

"Whatever. I wouldn't call what I said as whining anyway. Can you just put me down? I'm actually doing you a favor because I sense your fatigue."

Aldrich said nothing and continued to traverse the path.

"I said, put me down… while I'm being nice... I have mighty fists, mind you… though it would be a shame to add more bruises on your cheek… so maybe I should instead consider testing if my knees have indeed awakened—" Wolfram was abruptly dropped to the ground. He landed hard on his rump. "What was that for?" he demanded, looking over his shoulder to glare holes at Aldrich's back.

Aldrich proceeded to stride along the path underneath the arched trellis, the end of which was becoming obscured with fog, similar to what was happening—

Wolfram's eyes widened with alarm. He suddenly remembered the transformation that took place behind, on the path Aldrich had already traversed. He slowly turned his head in the same direction as his body. His heart pounded in his ears when he saw the ground and green tunnel before him vanishing and being replaced with fog and water. The water was only a few inches from his bare feet. There was no time to stand up; thus he scrambled backward using his hands and feet, his chest facing upward.

Wolfram retreated as fast as he could, but the changing scenery seemed to be keeping up with his pace. The chilly water caught up with his left foot then ankle. He was about to shout for help when the ground underneath him began to rise, lifting him several feet above the water. The green tunnel was gone, and the transformation had ceased, leaving him gasping before a gloomy lake.

Wolfram found himself sitting on a narrow dock, no more than five feet in width, with his left leg bent over the edge, dangling above the lake that had stopped expanding. Panting, he looked behind, but the fog hovered along the length of the dock and rendered visibility to almost none beyond a few feet.

"Did you make it, Wolfram von Bielefeld?"

Wolfram recognized Aldrich's mocking tone from some obscured place along the dock. Did Aldrich watch while he was scrambling backward with his hands and feet? Wolfram wondered. It was a most humiliating sight. "Damn you… You're going to pay for this… I'm going to get you someday… I swear," he muttered while catching his breath.

"If you made it safely, feel free to help yourself to anything in my home. I am going inside to rest now, but my door will remain open for you."

Grumbling curses, Wolfram slowly got to his feet and walked along the dock. He rubbed his hands together, to remove the dirt accumulated during his degrading scramble, and then moved them along his insubstantially covered arms. The temperature was low. Even though he had high tolerance for cold in normal clothing, he felt naked with only a mid-thigh long-sleeved negligee that was made of a flimsy fabric.

As he neared the end of the dock, Wolfram saw a tiny boat on the left. He also caught sight of stone steps leading to a porch. Even though the fog that encompassed the place remained thick, as he approached the stone steps, he caught a glimpse of a fireplace just beyond the porch, informing him that the door was straight ahead and was indeed left open. He briefly considered going around the property, to check for any neighbor cabins, but the goose bumps emerging from his entire body drew him closer to the fireplace instead.

OooooooooO

Upon stepping under the doorway, Wolfram had viewed half the interior of the cabin at a single glance; it was that small. On the left side was a black four-poster bed, bare of any canopy. To the right of the bed was a window that was devoid of curtains, a walnut writing desk littered with books, and a matching chair. To the left of the bed was another window without curtains and a mahogany armoire, the doors and bottom drawers of which were inlaid with ivory around the edges. At the foot of the bed was a cream fabric covered bulky sofa, the length of which was the same as the width of the king-sized mattress behind it. On either side of the sofa were dark leather recliners of different styles. There were numerous small items—lanterns along the stone walls, flowers hanging from the wooden beams underneath the pitched roof, potted plants here and there, and empty crystal ashtrays on low tables of odd shapes, to name a few. In front of all these, at the center of the cabin, was a double-sided fireplace, about eight feet in width, and it led to the other half of the cabin from either side.

Wolfram observed the figure reposed on the bed. Aldrich did not bother to wash his feet, change his garments, button his shirt, and remove the paisley quilt cover. His hands were at his sides. The rise and fall of his chest appeared normal. But even if the man seemed fast asleep, Wolfram could never be certain. Thus he turned right and walked into the other half of the cabin which the double-sided fireplace warmed as well.

The other half of the cabin, apparently, was the kitchen, informal dining, and bathing area. On the far end, below a window, was an old cast-iron sink with four legs. Underneath the sink were pails, pots, and more potted plants and candle lanterns. To the left of the cast-iron sink was a tall and wide cupboard, its upper open shelves were lined with jars of spices, bottles of wine, olive oil, vinegar, and baskets of bread, fruits, and vegetables, to name a few; while its lower closed cupboards—upon Wolfram's inspection—housed crocks, wooden utensils, pots, ladles, and other cooking implements similar to the ones hanging from hooks along the wall of the fireplace. In front of the storage were two chairs and an odd-shaped dining table made from distressed wood. Wolfram's gaze swept the right side of the cast-iron sink where a water well, concealed under a pitcher hand pump, was located. In front of this water well was a bone-colored round marble hand sink held by a black iron stand, underneath of which was a pail to catch the water released from the aforementioned sink. Beside the hand sink was a small circular white quartz soaking tub for a single person.

Wolfram's gaze lingered at the soaking tub. He was filthy, his thin garment was sullied, and a warm bath always relieved his tension. So what if the tub was similar to the one in his erotic dream the night before? He then glanced behind, tilted his head to the side to get a better view of the figure on the bed. Aldrich remained unmoving.

With a shrug, Wolfram strutted to the cast-iron sink where he grabbed a pail. He placed the pail underneath the spout of the pitcher pump, and filled the container.

He removed his clothing, washed his string underwear and negligee in the hand sink, and hung the wet garments on the back of a chair, which he then placed in front of the fireplace. Stark-naked, he filled the circular quartz tub, and then heated the water with his Mazoku power. After a last look to the side, to check if his abductor remained in slumber at the other end of the small cabin, he grinned and stepped into the tub. He bent his knees and eased his buttocks on the smooth surface.

OooooooooO

"Lord von Bielefeld!"

Wolfram flung his eyes open then jerked his head over his shoulder. Blinking away his drowsiness, he found Aldrich's feet where he last saw it. His abductor remained reposed on the bed. Thus he questioned if he had imagined the call.

"Down here!"

Apparently, it was not his imagination. He lowered his gaze to the well-worn wooden floor, and perceived something moving under his nose. He then saw the miniature Shinou, dressed in a blue garment with a red cape and white fur collar. The tiny man held an unsheathed sword at his side. Because this Shinou was very protective of Aldrich's privacy the last time they spoke, Wolfram was now inclined to believe he was the imposter, not the Shinou Ulrike had spoken with.

With a sneer, Wolfram pointed at the tiny sword, and said, "Do you think you can hurt me with that? Spare yourself the effort. It's impossible for someone as vertically challenged as you to inflict damage on someone like me."

A long gasp escaped the tiny man's lips. "Your insolence confounds me," he said.

"Insolence? Well now… if you can't appreciate forthright opinions, then…" Wolfram said, shifting in his seat and returning to his previous position with his back comfortably against the soaking tub, "shoo." With his eyes closed once more, he waved his hand, emphasizing his meaning. The gesture earned him a low growl.

"Lord. Von. Bie-le-feld," the tiny man uttered through gritted teeth. "Look at me. I command you."

Wolfram exhaled audibly then angled his body to the wall with his back toward the intruder. "Time is wasted on imposters," he said matter-of-factly.

"Humph! Unbelievable… I demand for an explanation."

Wolfram did not reply. Although he feigned indifference to the miniature Shinou's presence, he began to wonder if this was the same being who invaded Aldrich's dreams. Supposing he was, he could not be the incarnated Soushu for he was seemingly lacking in powers, physically.

A few minutes of silence passed. Wolfram assumed the tiny man had left.

The sound of wood splintering prompted Wolfram to open his eyes. The tiny man was nowhere in sight. The sound was repeated, and he was certain it was nearby. Because the wall was made of stone, he did not bother to look at his other side. He then lowered his gaze to the floor again. When he still found nothing unusual, he dismissed the sound as the crackling of wood in the fireplace.

Successive prickling sensations attacked Wolfram's knee. He regarded his bent knees with a frown and rubbed the pain away. A few more followed; this time, though, he sensed it on his other knee.

"Great," he muttered sarcastically, presuming his knees were cramping.

He slapped his knees, and, in the process, the back of his hand was stung by a sharp object. He leaned forward. His eyes narrowed instantly. Standing on the rim of the tub was the miniature Shinou, thrusting a miniature sword in the direction of his knees.

"Who do you think you are speaking with?" the tiny man demanded with a scowl.

With his chin drawn up and brows wrinkled in curiosity, Wolfram raised his buttocks slightly to see behind the rim of the tub. "How did you…" It was then that he saw the pail he left near the tub. The tiny man probably perforated the pail with his sword, and climbed using the holes. Such conclusion explained the sound of wood cracking and splitting.

"Answer me!" the tiny man interrupted, poking Wolfram's knee with every word.

"Ouch!" Wolfram yelped, raising and swinging a hand to slap the tiny man.

The tiny man parried Wolfram's palm with his sword, the edge of which pierced deep into Wolfram's skin.

"Stop this insolence right now! I demand that you accord me with the respect I deserve…" the tiny man's voice trailed off when his alert eyes noticed Wolfram's fingers bending, curling over the blood oozing from his palm, until all digits were balled into a fist. The tiny man turned to the side, preparing to summersault and land on the floor gracefully. "Stop this hostility—"

Wolfram slugged the tiny man with his knuckles. The strength he used flung the tiny man high and far across. He watched the small figure roll into a ball in midair. He cocked an eyebrow when the tiny man avoided the wall he was about to collide with by stretching a leg and kicking the stone wall. He shook his head in disbelief when the tiny man sheathed his sword during descent. He fought the urge to clap when the tiny man landed on the floor, crouching with palms on the surface. The tiny man swayed his head from left to right, throwing back the blond tendrils from his face.

"I have to give you credit for your flexibility," Wolfram remarked, nodding in approval. He was not able to control his temper earlier, and immediately regretted punching someone who could fit into his fist. For this reason, he was inwardly grateful he did not kill the tiny man. "Look, whoever you are, I apologize. But, seriously… you can't fool me a second time," he added, immersing his bleeding palm in the water and applying pressure on it.

The tiny man seemed to appreciate the apology for he stood up and, without a trace of anger, asked, "What do you mean by that, Lord von Bielefeld?"

"I know you're not Shinou because Shinou was able to speak with Ulrike on that very day you informed me you could not get through Covenant Castle."

The tiny man drew several deep breaths before speaking again. "I see… it is getting worse than I anticipated then. Not only did they attack the town, but they managed to penetrate Covenant Castle as well." He paused to walk closer to the tub. "I have been thinking about your dream. And I am certain whoever Ulrike spoke with is the same being that returned you to that day seventy years ago and deliberately showed you something that will make you suspicious of him," he ended, motioning his head to Aldrich.

Wolfram held up both of his palms, offering truce in advance in case what he was about to say resulted in another bout. "Look, whoever you are, I'm sorry. Your story is real creative. Unfortunately, if you're trying to win my trust, that isn't possible because—"

"Lord von Bielefeld," the tiny man interrupted gently but firmly, "you must allow me to finish before he regains consciousness. But, first, whatever you hear from me, you must vow never to disclose to another. It seems we cannot trust anyone, including the high priestess. Have I made myself clear?"

Wolfram offered a sympathetic smile to the tiny man who seemed anxious about something. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I can't bring myself to trust you either. Please go. You are wasting your time, as well as mine."

The tiny man lowered his head and began to regard Wolfram disapprovingly. "You disappoint me, descendant of Rufus von Bielefeld. Rufus von Bielefeld would have given up his life for me and Shin Makoku, while you and your partiality will destroy me and Shin Makoku."

"Well, now, relax… no need to get personal," Wolfram said a trifle mockingly. In a mutter, he added, "I must admit, though, the last part baffles me…" Wolfram's voice trailed off when he noticed he could see the base of the fireplace through the tiny man's figure, which apparently was no longer solid.

"He is awakening. And when he is awake, he is in control of our actions. Before he makes the wrong decision in fear of being the incarnated—"

"Who's 'he'?" Wolfram interrupted. "You mean, Ald—"

"Stop interrupting!" the tiny man said, regarding his fading hands and arms with alarm. With great urgency, he went on, "You have to believe the goodness in him. Likewise, you must gain his entire trust until your opinion becomes valuable to him, enabling you to convince him that he is urgently needed above, not here. He and I used to be one; we can still be one, but that is another matter. What is important now is for you to learn and believe that I released him before he became infected. He was my last resort in case the Chosen One failed like I did. He was the only part of me that remained untainted by the—"

With a frown, Wolfram stared at the spot on the well-worn floor where the tiny man used to be. Just when the conversation was becoming interesting, the tiny man vanished. Nevertheless, he had heard enough to ponder on. He had to admit the unfinished explanation was not only creative but plausible. Also, the tiny man confessed he was a part of Aldrich. Supposing the tiny man was indeed the real Shinou, then Aldrich was his reincarnated self, though not a successful one. Not yet anyway. On the other hand, the tiny man could be Soushu, using Shinou's appearance to beguile him, lure him to their side.

The only thing he agreed with the tiny man, regardless of his real identity, was that he had to convince Aldrich to return to Shin Makoku. Once he achieved that goal, he would let the others—Yuuri, Gwendal, Conrart, and Murata—decide if the man was harmless or not.

Perplexed, Wolfram leaned against the tub once more and dwelled on recent events, particularly the disturbance in town, which reminded him to question Aldrich where he was and what he did exactly on that night.

OooooooooO

A light touch on the back of his head startled Wolfram. He glanced up and saw Aldrich looking down at him with a smirk. Despite his nakedness, he assumed a blasé disposition about the fingers which lingered behind his head.

"Up so soon?" Wolfram asked nonchalantly.

Aldrich's smirk turned into a grin. His sapphire-blue eyes lowered to Wolfram's exposed chest, moved to the immersed valley created by his position, and ended on his bent knees. "Not yet," he answered, gliding his fingers to Wolfram's nape. "Give it a while longer and it will soon be," he ended, returning his gaze to Wolfram's pectorals, his eyes flitting from one pink nipple to the other.

When Aldrich's meaning sank in, Wolfram's face contorted with disgust and inwardly questioned if the man was preoccupied with sex. Whatever indifference Wolfram resolved to display was abandoned right there and then. "That could not have been more irrelevant to my question," he said, rolling his eyes. "And is _that_ all you think about?" he added, reaching behind and yanking Aldrich's fingers from his skin.

Smiling smugly still, Aldrich straightened up, but remained behind Wolfram. "When there is nothing more pleasant to think of, yes," Aldrich admitted insouciantly while working on the button of his trousers. "Since you look very comfortable there, I gather it's as luxurious as the merchant claimed it to be. I hope you do not mind if I join you," he ended, pushing down and dropping his trousers to the floor with a faint rustle.

It was only then that Aldrich's companion looked over his shoulder. The large emerald-green orbs appeared horrified. Obviously, Aldrich concluded, Wolfram was not accustomed to aggressive admirers despite his irresistible beauty; either that or physical intimacy revolted him. The flushed cheeks and diffidence Aldrich perceived informed him it was the former reason. And it amused him immensely. He shrugged off the shirt from his shoulders then inserted his thumbs on either side of his string undergarment.

"What are you doing?" Wolfram demanded, deliberating avoiding the sight of Aldrich's body by eying the wrinkled trousers and shirt on the floor. The black underwear then dropped on top of the trousers, and he averted his eyes entirely by turning his back on Aldrich once more. He considered getting out of the tub and donning his clothes quickly, but then he could end up standing naked in front of an equally naked man before he accomplished the task. "And, yes, I do mind—very much so—if you join me. Look, it can barely accommodate me, let alone your length."

"Oh, I always find a way to squeeze my length in tight places," Aldrich said with a suggestive smile that complemented his suggestive words.

Wolfram chose to ignore the prurient remark. "If you can't wait, then hand me a towel and I'll allow you the honor of trying out this tub." He then closed his eyes and silently begged Aldrich to leave him alone… or at least hand him a towel.

Aldrich released a sigh of disappointment. "I should have expected the Maoh's fiancé to be a prude. After all you sleep together with his adopted—"

"Hah! That's right. You seem to forget that I am the Maoh's fiancé. Therefore, no one but him can indulge in my sight."

"Ah… what then is the purpose of the girl between you and the Maoh in bed? Greta is her name, yes?"

At the mention of Greta, Wolfram's eyes flung open. He turned his head slowly, and then spoke even slower so as not to be misunderstood. "Do not bring her into this. Do not mention her again, ever. She is not to be involved in your life. Do you understand?"

Aldrich studied Wolfram's piercing green orbs which spoke in volumes, warning him that the adopted daughter of the Maoh was someone of great importance to the man. "Calm down," Aldrich said, turning around. He then proceeded to the armoire. "I simply asked why you and your fiancé sleep with a human wall between you—according to the people I asked to bring you to me, that is," he explained, taking out a towel from the lower drawer of the wardrobe.

Deeply riled at the mention of Greta, Wolfram made no response, and focused on calming his nerves. With tightly pressed lips, he snatched the towel proffered to him. When Aldrich turned around, he glared at the man's shoulder blades, buttocks, and limbs. "If you so much as lay a hand on a strand of her hair," Wolfram said quietly, "I will kill you."

Aldrich took out a wooden bowl from the cupboard beside the cast-iron sink. "Wolfram," he said, grabbing spices from the upper open shelves, "do not make your stay here unpleasant, or rather _more_ unpleasant, by filling your head with ideas that are highly improbable." He then reached for bottles of vinegar, olive oil, and wine.

With a towel in hand, Wolfram stood up and got out of the tub. He grabbed his negligee and underwear from the chair, and then headed for the bedroom-cum-living room area, away from the naked man who continued to collect ingredients for marinating.

Wolfram was aware he had overreacted. He couldn't help it, though. He treasured Greta as if she were his own daughter.

While he dried himself with the towel, he eventually calmed down. After he had donned his garments, the questions he intended to ask Aldrich returned.

"What were you doing in town the other night?" Wolfram asked, sitting on the sofa across the fireplace. He heard the gurgling of water and presumed Aldrich was draining the tub.

"Did you not use soap?" Aldrich asked, thrusting his head above the tub to look at Wolfram who remained in the other half of the cabin.

Wolfram was inwardly grateful that only the man's upper body was visible from where he sat. "No," he answered, returning his gaze to the dancing flames in front of him. "I only washed off. I didn't take a full bath."

"No wonder…" was Aldrich's unfinished remark.

"So, where were you and what were you doing the other night in town?" Wolfram repeated.

"I was sleeping in my usual room in the tavern…"

The image of the beautiful-but-unfriendly barkeeper of the tavern flashed in Wolfram's mind. He wouldn't be surprised if she and Aldrich were in a relationship.

"… when I was roused by the ruckus outside. Before I was made aware of the situation, the person beside me smashed a bottle of whiskey on my face."

The skin of those with demon blood regenerated quickly, and hence gashes usually closed overnight, leaving only discoloration around the affected area. Aldrich's statement explained the bruise on his cheekbone, and incidentally confirmed that he was with someone in bed.

"And?" Wolfram asked.

The well's pitcher pump produced squeaking sounds, followed by the gushing of water.

"And many people appeared to be demented," Aldrich said loudly so as to be heard while he filled the tub. "I went downstairs and an acquaintance, who was one of the few who remained normal, told me that those black lights were manipulating the minds of the others."

There was a long pause. Wolfram inclined his upper body to the side, to see behind the cabin's only partition that was the fireplace's wall. He saw Aldrich stepping into the tub. Aldrich was facing in his direction. Their eyes locked. Aldrich smiled; it was a tender smile that reached his deep-set, sparkling blue eyes. It was the first genuine smile Wolfram received from the young man. And it warmed him more than fireplace.

"Go on," Wolfram prodded, inwardly grateful for the distance that prevented Aldrich from noticing his blush.

"I had a similar dream long ago—one of those dreams of the past—and that is where I derived the idea of using the flowering vines," Aldrich said, working up a lather with a sponge to his chest. "I used the vines to remove those interlopers from the mind."

"So you're saying that you had nothing to do with those dark streaks?"

"As far as my conscious mind is concerned, I do not."

"Then why did go into hiding when they were searching for the hero of the night?"

Aldrich was quiet for a long while, immersed in thought. Then he said, "That reminds me of one of my concerns: what made you and the Maoh's people think the person behind the black lights and the vines were the same?"

"Answer my question first," Wolfram said firmly.

Aldrich cocked an eyebrow. "Who is the captive here?"

They stared at each other unflinchingly; neither of them was willing to budge.

Wolfram considered fabricating a story, but he had never been a convincing liar. He then resigned to the fact that he had to give some in order to get some. Thus he yielded first, and said, "On the day we met, before the town was attacked, the Great One imparted a message to the Maoh. He said to be wary of someone who will emerge as a savior for he himself is darkness incarnated. With this in mind, it's easy to jump to conclusions that the man who harassed the town is the same as the one who protected it to win the trust of the townsfolk."

Aldrich's thick golden lashes lowered to veil his eyes.

After several seconds of silence, Wolfram reminded, "Well? It's your turn to explain. Why did you go into hiding when they asked for you?"

After a deep breath, Aldrich resumed lathering his torso. "For various reasons. First of all, when Lord Weller entered 'Al's Meat', he was escorted by a troop; that alone aroused suspicion that something was not right. Second, it is not the first time I have assisted those in need and fought with… hmm… how should I call those enemies? Whatever they are, I have learned long ago that when dealing with an elusive opponent, one must remain unknown as well. Otherwise they will be able to hunt you down. Do you understand?"

The explanation of Aldrich could not have been more logical. It somewhat convinced Wolfram there was truth in it.

"I suppose you do not believe me," Aldrich said. "I understand. Trust is earned after all. And we have plenty of time to get to know each other."

Aldrich's remark on trust made Wolfram recall the tiny man's advice; and it was something along the lines of gaining Aldrich's trust until his opinions mattered. Wolfram was about to ask when exactly Aldrich intended to release him, but then deemed it unnecessary for it would not change whatever the man's plans were. Not yet anyway. Not until he had obtained Aldrich's confidence. With this in mind, Wolfram stood up and said, "Do you need help with our meal? I presume that's our meal marinating there."

"It is," Aldrich said, scooping water to his hair. "However, I would have to decline your most generous offer because I prefer to cook it myself. There are books on the desk if you want to pass the time."

"Actually, if you don't need assistance with our breakfast… or is it lunch?"

"Breakfast," Aldrich answered, rubbing shampoo into his hair.

"I see… As I was saying, if you don't need help with breakfast, then I prefer to walk around the property. Do you have an outhouse, by the way?"

"Look out the window on your left," Aldrich said, working up a lather on his head. "The shed right outside has been recently converted into a proper bathing area, and the smaller structure beside the shed is the outhouse. Do you see it?"

Wolfram could hardly see anything through the fog. "No. But I still intend to go for a walk outside."

"Take a lantern with you then, so you do not have to expend power."

"I think I'll do just that."

After lighting a lantern, Wolfram headed for the door, and stopped to take a glimpse of Aldrich, who by then had a crown and bib made of bubbles. Wolfram was not able to suppress a grin.

"Not a very seductive sight, no?" Aldrich asked, returning Wolfram's grin.

"Definitely not," Wolfram answered.

"There are coats in the armoire. They may be large for you, but it is up to you to decide if being fashionable is better than staying warm."

Because of the warmth of the fireplace, Wolfram had forgotten about his insubstantial clothing, which was far from fashionable. He wanted to express his gratitude to Aldrich, but a part of him reminded that it was Aldrich's fault he ended up in that place with nothing on except a flimsy negligee. As he proceeded to the armoire, Aldrich called his attention again.

"There are shoes under the bed. Since mine are too large for you, you can use my mother's. Or maybe you can try my father's footwear. Incidentally, my parents and I built this cabin. Have I mentioned this to you?"

"No," Wolfram answered, opening the doors of the armoire. "But you can tell me all about it over breakfast," he added, smiling, thinking that perhaps being a captive of Aldrich would not be so bad.

OooooooooO

TBC

**Author's Note**: Thank you for taking the time to show support and share your opinions. They are most appreciated. Keep them coming please.

Below are replies to anonymous reviews since the start of this fanfiction:

Guest (no name) – You are the first reviewer for "The Return of the Original Demon King" and I couldn't have asked for a better one. Thank you very much. Your words of encouragement are much appreciated.

Alasse – What you imparted through review was really, really sweet, and it warmed me all over. Thank you so much for the effort in reading this and sharing with me your thoughts. As long as you're enjoying the stories I write about Wolfram, I'm more than satisfied. Oh, and yes, I love sexy, hot characters with him, too.

Zafira – Hi! Thank you for the support. I hope the rest of the story will be to your liking.

yay – Just like you, I have been a Shinou x Wolfram fan for more than two years. And I'm eager to reach the part in this story where romance begins between both Shinou x Wolfram and Aldrich x Wolfram. Thank you for taking the time to leave a review.

Until next time!


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